No Apologies: The 101st Hunger Games
by david12341
Summary: Change is coming. After a heartbreaking, divisive Games, change is everywhere. From the president, to District 13, to a Head Gamemaker hellbent on making the most memorable Games ever- change is in the air. And with this change, only one thing is certain: There will be no apologies. A sequel to Role Model.
1. No Apologies

**A/N: So excited to finally get this story underway! This is just a short prologue to give you guys a feel for my writing, as well as to introduce you to some new characters, and finally of course- reveal the twist! Hope you guys enjoy!**

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 **Galavant Redding, 31, Victor of 87th Hunger Games**

 **February 25th, Year 101**

 **102 Victors Village, District One**

"This is a stick up, give me all you got!" My over-enthusiastic daughter threatens, waving the cardboard tube inches from my neck as her light brown eyes bear down on me menacingly.

Rolling my eyes, I tug on the tube and yank it to the left, May lurching forward a moment before letting go and letting out a soft, "Ow," as I lightly thwack her head with the cardboard.

"No fair," she complains, snatching the make-shift sword from my hands and turning away from me.

"How so?" I laugh, leaning back into the sofa.

"You're not allowed to fight back," she declares with a thoroughly snobby head tilt.

"You're eleven now kiddo, I think that rule is out the window."

"Well _maybe_ if you got your butt off the couch and let me practice I could stand a chance," she says, pointing the tube at me accusingly.

"Fair enough," I sigh, leaning back even further into the couch.

May just rolls her eyes and drops the cardboard, jumping up on the couch next to me. "You are the laziest man alive."

I shrug, keeping a straight face that only cracks up into laughter after she hits me on the shoulder. "Sorry kiddo, I'll be sure to play with you more tomorrow, but there's a special announcement from the president on in a few minutes."

She lets out the loudest yawn of all time just as I finish speaking, holding it for a solid ten seconds before turning to me and deadpanning, "Boring."

"You're telling me," I sigh, throwing an arm around May's shoulder. "Trust me, there are a million things I'd rather be doing right now."

"Well then where's Melody-" she cringes, shaking her head. "Sorry, mom."

I ignore the slip-up, understanding fully well that she's been trying her hardest to keep things straight lately, even as confusing as things have gotten. Even if she may not understand it, having the Capitol find out about Melody and I is just about worst case scenario. Telling them we're married is pretty much synonymous with throwing our privacy straight out the window. So adjusting between calling her mom and by her real name when she's talking to anybody but the two of us is understandably tricky.

"She's popping in to wish Glory a happy birthday."

"She's turning ten right?" She asks, and when I nod, she smiles and says, "Cool. So, you what did you get her?"

Before I can respond, the front door opens and slips shut, Melody limping out through the hallway and into the living room with an easy smile on her lips. "Hey you two, did I miss anything?"

"Nope," May chirps up. "Unless you count dad being a lazy bum."

"Oof," Melody laughs. "No, I don't think that's anything new."

I just roll my eyes, "Not like I got a twelve training score," I remind her in a mutter.

"Yeah, like. . . eighty years ago," May teases, climbing up and walking over to help her mom, taking her forearm crutches as she eases Melody onto the opposite end of the couch from me. I look over at her for support, but she just offers a half-smile and a shrug as May hops back on the couch in-between us, sitting cross-legged on the middle cushion.

"Fourteen years," I defend myself, lightly tapping her on the head. "Not much older than you."

"Ya, which means I wasn't even born yet," she taps me on the chest. "That's pretty old."

"Or maybe you're just young?" I toss up.

She shrugs. "I dunno," she says, turning her eyes to my hair. "I think I see some grey hairs there."

May brings a hand up to my hair, and I lightly swat it away, rolling my eyes. "You're gonna be thirty someday too, ya know."

"Hopefully not," she jokes, barely holding in laughter as she turns back to the TV.

I decide to not respond, and just let her have this one. She wanted me to help her train tomorrow, so we can see who's out of their prime then. Until then I just shake my head as she rests her head on my shoulder, eyes tiredly set on the television screen, where the president is just moments away from addressing the nation.

After another few seconds of delay, Delilah Choice finally steps out on stage to roaring applause, a somber look on her face as she steps up to the podium. _"Hello Panem, I am here to bring you all some very exciting news."_

"Doesn't sound so exciting," May yawns, tugging on a loose strand from my jeans.

 _"Many of you have undoubtedly felt the impacts of some of the recent changes we've made in the district's. Numerous opportunities to work, study, perform, and compete in the Capitol have been opened, and I am proud to announce a drastic decrease in poverty and crime since my takeover as president."_ This earns another thunderous round of applause, and she holds up a hand, not even so much as cracking a smile at the display. _"But there is still one exciting change yet to be announced."_ She pauses for a moment, a sly grin appearing on her lips for just a moment as a young boy walks up the president, handing her an envelop with the number _101_ marked on it.

"What-" Melody breathes out, a concerned look shining in her eyes.

 _"To celebrate these massive improvements, for the One-Hundredth and first Annual Hunger Games, we will be having our fourth official quarter quell!"_

The applause is deafening even through the television, and all three of us are all frozen in shock, mouths hanging open at the bombshell. Another quell twist? Right after last years? What in the world are they thinking? They already made that stupid rule change a month ago that extended the ages from eight to twenty-two, but that wasn't enough for them?

 _"So it is my pleasure to announce, that for the fourth every quarter quell. . ."_ She opens up the envelope and sets the slip of paper down on the podium. _"T_ _o remind the districts how just a few's disobedience caused such pain and suffering for so many, the reaped tribute must choose their partner in the games."_

With that, the television clicks off, and the three of us are left in a thick silence, all of us still digesting the words that were just spoken. Unsurprisingly enough, it's May that's the first to speak up. "Whoever gets reaped is gonna choose someone they hate. . ." she pauses for a moment, then swallows a lump in her throat. "Or someone famous," she shakily chokes out, leaning more heavily into my shoulder.

I give her other shoulder a squeeze, and offer a reassuring smile. "Nobodies gonna pick you, kiddo, we'll make sure to let the whole district know the name of the top Career candidate so they can pick them if they get reaped."

May doesn't look even remotely convinced, but slowly nods anyways, holding my hand in place around her shoulder when I go to bring it back. Letting out a sigh, I pull her in tighter, rubbing a hand through her hair with my free hand as I turn to Melody, who is still staring at the blacked out television.

"I see that look in your eyes," I tell her cautiously. "I know what you're thinking."

"You know we can't let her go in alone," she says as she turns to me, a fiery look in her eyes that tells me that nothing I say will ever convince her otherwise.

"You're talking about breaking a District One tradition as old as the Games themselves," I caution her.

"Actually, I'm talking about not letting a ten-year-old girl with PTSD and survivors remorse be forced to mentor by herself during a quell with kids either younger than her or over double her age."

"So what's the plan then," I sigh, giving up on trying to convince her to see reason. Getting her to not take a train to the Capitol to fill in as the mentor last year was already hard enough, and she seems to have come particularly attached to Glory. I should have known that she wouldn't be willing to send her off by herself, really. "You want to go in with her?"

She raises an eyebrow at me, and I groan, shaking my head. "Now you're talking about breaking an unwritten rule of the Games."

"Well, then maybe they'll write it down next year," she smiles. "With the twist, odds are the tributes will want to be trained separately, and I already need to focus on teaching Glory how to mentor, I wouldn't have the time to do that."

"So you want me to train whichever one of the tributes is a spoiled brat that's never trained a day in their life while you and Glory both take the other?"

"Pretty much," she shrugs, flashing me a smile.

"Melody-"

"Dad," May cuts me off, taking her head out of my shoulder and looking at me for the first time, her eyes wide and bright and so innocent that it just about melts my heart to even look into them. "If it were me that got reaped, you wouldn't care about the rules, would you?" She asks, and I mentally curse myself for having to adopt such an adorable daughter. How am I supposed to say no to that face?

"Of course not," I sigh, already knowing what's coming next.

"Then why won't you do it for her?" She murmurs into my shoulder.

Turning to Melody, I droop my shoulders and give in, shaking my head. "Alright," I mutter. "But I get to give the news to Glory- I forgot to get her a birthday present."

"Knew it," May murmurs tiredly.

As gently as possible I pry May from my shoulder as I stand up, letting her slouch in the opposite direction as she leans into Melody. I get to the hallway and turn around at the pair, and sigh. "You know," I shake my head. "Sometimes I forgot why I ever married you."

Melody smiles back at me cheekily. "And then I always remind you."

An easy smile forms on my lips as I look back at her and see the same girl as the one that I first laid my eyes on all those years ago. The same girl that made life worth living those few months after the Games. The girl that from the moment I saw, I knew that I would spend the rest of my life with. "Yeah, you sure do."

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 **A/N: And there's prologue one of two. Next prologue I'll have a finished tribute list, and will post the blog! So if you haven't yet submitted be sure to get that up, because you only have until August 1st until I publish next chapter!**

 **That aside, I hope you guys enjoyed this prologue, and make sure to let me know what you guys think of Galavant, Melody, May, and the quell twist! I'll see you all in a few days!**


	2. The Reveal

**A/N: So here's a tiny little POV that's mostly filler, but also has a few hints about the arena snuck in there for you guys. Just as an aside, if any of you are feeling a bit lost about the plot, and don't have the time to read through Role Model, PM me and I can give you a quick summary to catch you up.**

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 **Tali Choice, 31, Head Gamemaker**

 **May 24th, Year 101**

 **The Gamesmaker Floor, The Games Center**

The two of us walk side by side down the dimly light hallway, the occasional overhead light casting a dark red shadow over the walls and floor. Delilah is facing forward, moving with purpose as she quickly struts by, my small legs barely able to keep up without jogging.

"I presume that all preparations have been made?" She asks offhandedly.

Nodding, I turn over to her. "The arena is fully prepared, we just need to add in some of the prototypical weapons in and we're all set."

She absently nods, eyes still set forward. "Including the Ashla prototype?" She asks, just a hint of surprise in her voice.

An excited smile slips onto my lips, and I have to try my hardest to not let the words explode out of my mouth rapid-fire. Instead, taking a deep breath, I nod my head. "Our scientists had a breakthrough last week. It's still yet to go through human trials, but we hope for it to be fully prepared by the Games."

"Impressive," she murmurs thoughtfully.

With a wide grin I allow myself a quick laugh, shaking my head in disbelief. "Just a few months ago half of these ideas were nothing but fantasy, and now we have working prototypes for things that seemed unbelievable for even a science-fiction movie."

"The Baan prototype will have Newton rolling in his grave," Delilah jokes, earning a smirk from me as we reach our destination.

Without another word, she inserts her key card and swings the door open. I close the door behind me as we walk in, the room illuminating in bright white lights to display the three-dimensional map of the arena in the center. Delilah only gives it a cursory glance before turning back to me with a thoughtful expression.

"It's small," she comments plainly. "I don't want another ten day Games."

"As you can see on the map," I reply with just a hint of annoyance. "The arena has a high density and low lighting, making the low size necessary to avoid another month long Games."

"Just don't be afraid to ensure the Games don't go by too quickly," she cautions with a sharp look.

"Have I failed you yet?" I ask with an easy smile .

"Don't let your ego get in your way, sister."

"Of course not, Miss President," I respond with equal sharpness.

She spares me a lazy glance before shaking her head and turning and exiting the room, the lights flickering off and leaving me in a dim shadow as Delilah walks away, a bitter feeling trickling into my gut as the darkness fades to grey.

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 **A/N: This is it, it's finally time to reveal the tribute list! Before I do I'd like to first just say thank you to every single person that submitted. I got 14 submissions for just 6 spots, and every single one of those submissions were amazing. I had to turn down so many great tributes, and even if yours wasn't accepted- please don't take it personally. With this story's twist the tributes all had to fit together super well, and that made it so some fantastic characters just couldn't find a way into this story.**

 **If you didn't get a tribute in and still want to find a way into the story, I'm open for escort submissions if you want to PM me about it!**

 **So without further ado: here's the link for the blog! I spent a ton of time on it so blog reviews are MASSIVELY appreciated! (and worth, like, 50 brownie points)**

 **Noapologieshg . blogspot . com ((remove the spaces))**

 **PS: Full list of all 24 tributes is on my profile!**


	3. D1: Defeats and Victories

_"Defeats and Victories"_

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 **A/N: Just a quick note: The reapings are on May 25th, year 101. Also, the ages in the headers are what their age was at the time of the POV, so keep that in mind, and glance at the blog or my profile quickly if you want to see what their current ages are before reading. That aside, e** **njoy our first introduction chapter!**

 **Warning: Vulgar language throughout. Expect this with the whole story, really.**

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 _~Lately I've been hard to reach, I've been too long on my own_

 _Everybody has a private world where they can be alone_

 _Are you calling me? Are you trying to get through?_

 _Are you reaching out for me, like I'm reaching out for you?~_

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 **Hailey Hills, 13, District One**

 **June 10th, Year 100**

 **Skyway Drive, District One**

I don't look up as I walk down the street, head bowed towards the pavement, ignoring the red trail I leave behind me. I bring a hand up to my hair, sighing as it comes back down dripping with fake blood. With a flick of the wrist most of it is off, and I wipe my hand on my jeans to get rid of the rest, not having it in myself to care that my pants will be stained.

A few kids are playing tag at the field, and all of them pause for a moment as I walk by, gawking and pointing, a few quietly giggling as their friends hit them on the shoulder, barely holding in laughter themselves. A drop of the red liquid runs down my cheek, and I bite my tongue as I trudge forward. The paint drips down my chin and lands on my bare feet, my hands tightening the towel around my shoulders as I turn my head away from the field.

As I walk down my block, it feels like all eyes are on me, peering through the windows and wondering what in the hell is wrong with the half-naked girl coated in blood. With that thought I bury my face into the towel, ignoring the sticky feeling of paint pressing against my cheeks.

I've walked this route so many times I don't even have to look as I turn into my driveway, quickly running up the steps and trying the front door, only to find it locked. My hands fumble around in my pockets, the towel falling to my feet as I attempt to dig through the drenched, gooey garbage in my pockets to find the key.

Just as my hands wrap around the small piece of metal and pull it out, the door is yanked open, and I lurch backwards as I see an unfamiliar man standing in the doorway. The two of us both stand still, frozen for a moment as we exchange glances, before after a moment he points to the towel and lets out a heavy sigh. "You wanna throw that on?"

I wordlessly snatch the towel and drape it around my shoulders, arms crossed as I glare up at him. "You wanna tell me why the hell you're in my house?'

He just snorts, shaking his head as he leans against the door frame and staring out somewhere past me. "Spunky is a hell of a way to put it, Logan," he murmurs to himself.

My eyes narrow and I quietly reach for the into my pocket for my knife. "Logan?"

"You don't know your own dad's name?" He asks with a raised eyebrow. When I sharpen my glare, he just sighs and backs up, nodding his head in the direction of indoors. "Come in, there's something you oughta know."

When I don't move to follow he doesn't seem to mind, continuing to walk towards the living room, and so I hesitantly follow, pocket knife gripped in my hand just behind my back. Something about the guy seems familiar, but I can't put my finger on what it is. And who the fuck does he think that he is talking about my dad? I tighten my grip on the knife at the thought, cautiously following after the towering old man.

By the time I reach the living room he's already sprawled out on the couch, eyes half-shut as he lets out a satisfied grunt. "You just gonna stand there all day?"

"Listen," I warn him with a trembling voice. "What the fuck do you want?"

He peers open an eye and with a heavy sigh, heaves himself up into sitting position, dragging his hands down his tired face, his dark brown eyes drowsily bearing into me. "I'm an old friend of your dad's," he says bitterly, glancing me up one last time before leaning back into the couch. "And, it seems, your god-father," he pauses for a moment, letting out a deep breath. "And legal guardian."

"Where the hell is my mom," I tell him with crossed arms, not even bothering to hide the knife as worry seeps into my voice. I cringe at my self as soon as the words leave my lips, hating how much of a freaking kid I sound like with my stupid trembling voice.

He pulls an envelope out of his jacket and tosses it at my feet, letting his eyes drift shut as I snatch up the letter and tear it open, unfolding the scratch paper and reading it over. I read it over a second time, and a third, and still can't believe what I'm reading, shaking my head as I crumple it up and throw it at the man. "What the hell is this?" I ask with that same pathetic voice.

"Exactly what it says," he replies with a sharp annoyance.

"Listen," I warn as I step towards him, trembling as I clutch onto the knife in my hand, my other hand pointing at him accusingly. "I have had a shitty day, and I don't have time for this bullshit." The words are a jumble as they stutter out, and I have to take a deep breath, quickly wiping at any tears before they start to drop.

"Neither do I," he replies coldly, not even offering me a passing glance as I turn and stomp away, pacing the living room.

"She may be a shitty mom, but she would never leave me," I argue, more to myself than to him. "It's only been a week," I choke out, tears again threatening to spill as I bring both hands up to my eyes, turning away from the man as I let in a deep breath, rapidly shaking my head.

"People are real pieces of shit, aren't they?" He murmurs casually.

I spin around, not caring anymore about the tears streaming down my cheeks as I flick the blade of my knife and march over to him, the edge pointed just a foot away from his neck. "Who the FUCK EVEN ARE YOU?" I scream, hand shaking uncontrollably as I attempt to wipe away the tears from my face.

"I told you already," he says through gritted teeth, in a flash gripping onto my wrist and squeezing it tightly, the knife falling out of my hand and clattering harmlessly against the ground. "Your dad put me down as your god-father, and since he went and got himself killed, and married a real piece of work of a wife who apparently don't love you- here I am." He holds his grip on my wrist for another minute before he finally lets go, and I jerk backwards, stumbling to the ground and shakily picking up my knife, clutching it closely with both hands. "Now go put some clothes on, I don't wanna see you walking around in your underwear."

I snort as I hold my arms over my chest, tears brimming at my eyes as I glare at him. "What, don't you care about how I got soaked in FUCKING. BLOOD. . . _dad_ ," I spit out shakily.

He doesn't even look back at me, lying down on his back and sighing. "I ain't your dad."

"Yeah," I mutter, snatching my towel from off the ground and walking past him. "Fuck you too."

 **Prestige Freeman, 14, District One**

 **June 10th, Year 100**

 **Ramey Park, District One**

My lungs are burning, my legs aching, head throbbing in pain as I keel over the metal bench, gasping in for air between gulps of water. Behind me, coach is attempting to hype the team up, snapping at them to pay attention, but he knows well enough to leave me be. I've been running back and forth saving our sorry asses for the past fort-five minutes without break- I'm not the one who needs a talking to.

The first half of the game went like every other one has this season, with us kicking ourselves off to an early lead and holding on to it. It was two to zero going into the half, but the team has fallen apart since, constantly falling under pressure and being unable to get the ball onto their side of the field, and even giving up a stupid goal just a few minutes ago to cut our lead to just one.

"Now do you guys want to have the first perfect regular season in this league's history? Or do you want to squander it away because your _too tired_?" Coach demands, earning cheers of approval from my teammates as they all huddle up.

I stay leaned over for just a moment longer before crawling to my feet, and with heavy breath place my hand in the middle of the circle. A thousand words are running through my head that I want to say right now about how important this game is. This is about more than a new record, or an impressive looking stat sheet when people look at the standings. I've poured everything into this sport, and if after everything that I've put in, it still isn't enough to be the undisputed best? What use am I at all?

Instead though I just take a moment more to catch my breath, and in a raspy voice cheer out, "Grizzlies on three! One! Two! Three!"

I fall back as the rest of my team screams out, "Grizzlies," putting the fact that none of them seem out of breath to the back of my mind. This isn't their game to lose, it's mine.

Despite my lungs harshest protests, I jog out to the box, nodding to our goalie as I mark number twelve, by far their best player, who's feet are jittering just a bit too much to only be nerves about this being their last possession. Over in the corner number eight is lining up behind the ball, her eyes locked on the ball, flirting up to meet number twelve's for just a moment before skirting back down.

With a determined look, I dance my way in front of twelve, the two of us running forward, sideways, and backwards as she attempts to get just an inch of leeway. As fast as I am, going so long without a break still wears me out, a problem that my opponent hasn't had to deal with, and for just a moment she manages to get a step on me.

As soon as she does the girl in the corner boots the ball into the center, a rocket that sits just inches above the other girl's head, yet towers a foot above mine. Damn eighteen-year-olds. The girl jumps in the air, head cocked back and ready to hit the ball, but she jumps to early, and I'm able to leap past her and towards the ball, stumbling just a bit as I make the jump to the side, the ball skidding against the side of my head and towards the goal.

My heart stops as I collide roughly with the grass, my shoulder bursting in pain as I land on it awkwardly, falling off my side and onto my back, everything going by in just a blink of the eye as the ball slowly dribbles into the corner, the goalie attempting to correct herself and dive for the ball, with it sliding just past her fingertips and crossing past the white line.

The ref blows his whistle, and the other team explodes into cheering, the bench and stands alike emptying as what feels like millions of people all jump up and down at our goal, everybody on our team slowly walking to our bench, heads hung in shame. Everybody but me. I stay flat on my back, staring up at the grey sky, the faintest outlines of stars fluttering up above.

The screams and cheers all blend into one single noise, fading away into background noise as I stay still, frozen in a mixture of emotions so wide that I can't even begin to pick apart what it is I'm feeling. I'm shocked, embarrassed, pained, terrified, disappointed, and more than anything else. . . I feel fucking worthless.

One of my teammates taps me on the shoulder and offers a hand up, her mouth moving but no words making their way through to me as I ignore her, continuing to stare at the sky with wide eyes, a tiny part of me hoping that if I just keep on looking up that the world around me will disappear. Eventually, it almost seems to. My teammate gets the point and leaves me alone, as does coach, even if he takes a bit longer to give up. Even the other team all filter off the field soon enough, going off to celebrate the fact that they tied the team that was supposed to be untouchable.

The team that would have been untouchable, if I wasn't a giant fuck up. It doesn't even matter that I scored our only two goals, or how damn hard I worked to stop any chance of a goal they had for the rest of the game. When it mattered most, and my whole team was relying on me, I scored an own goal. An own fucking goal. Even a six-year-old would be embarrassed to do that, much less someone who's supposed to be a fucking _prodigy._ Prodigies don't screw up when everyone is counting on them. Prodigies don't make mistakes.

After a while the only person left on the field is the ball boy, quietly walking past me and towards the street with a bundle of balls slung over his shoulder. "Wait!" I call out to him desperately, stumbling to my feet as he looks back at me with a mixture of confusion and embarrassment. Second-hand for me, probably.

"Yeah?" He calls back, dropping the bundle to the ground.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I scratch the back of my neck, eyes flirting to the white and orange cleats on my feet. "Do you have the game-tying ball in there?" I ask shakily, having to force the words out in just above a whisper.

"Um, yeah," he fumbles out, scrambling to pick a ball out of the sack, and holding it in the air. "You want it?" He asks bemusedly, giving me an odd look.

I nod my head, and after a moment of confusion, he shrugs and rolls the ball over to me before turning and walking away, not even glancing back as I clutch the ball tightly to my chest, taking in deep breaths. I don't even have to look to the stands to know that they're empty too- mom and dad and Amber never come to my games, and there's nobody out there that cares enough to stay and wait for me.

Instead, I plant the ball on the ground, right on the penalty shot marker, and take three steps back, letting in a deep breath and bouncing in place a few times, letting out my nerves. Once my body is still, I lock my eyes on the ball, and take one more step backwards. "Bottom left," I whisper to myself.

Jogging up to the ball, I plant my left foot and rip the ball with my right foot, the ball blazing its way to the bottom left corner, dinging against the pole as it ricochets in.

I don't even crack a smile as I walk over to the goal with heavy steps, panting as I pick the ball back up and smack myself on the forehead with it. " _Prodigies_ don't score own goals," I mutter bitterly, placing the ball back onto the marker.

"Top left," I murmur, lining up and belting the ball, again hitting it off the pole and in.

" _Prodigies_ don't tie," I choke out angrily, snatching the ball and dropping to my knees as I forcefully push it down onto the marker.

"Top down," I say, backing up and chipping the ball into the air, the ball colliding against the crossbar and dropping down, just past the white line and in. I don't feel even a hint of pride at the shot, again marching over and grabbing the ball.

" _Prodigies_ aren't colossal fuck-ups that are worthless pieces of SHIT," I yell out in a muted scream, throwing the ball at the net and kicking the pole with all my might, falling flat on my ass as I hit the ground with a thud, my breath escaping me for a moment as I gasp for air, tears spilling down my cheeks as I turn onto my stomach, curling into a ball as I choke out sobs, clutching onto the grass and yanking it out in anger. "Worthless piece of _shit_ ," I repeat to myself softly, my anger simmered as I run my hands down my arms, clutching onto myself desperately.

My tears dry up as I crawl to my feet, wiping my eyes as I stagger over to the ball, picking it up and holding it tightly to my chest, eyes closing as I rest my head on it, holding on for my dear life. "Prodigies don't make mistakes," I whisper to myself, holding out the ball and staring out at it with watery eyes before bringing it back to my chest, hugging onto it as I take steady steps towards the street, feeling completely and utterly hollow.

 **Hailey Hills, 13, District One**

 **April 25th, Year 101**

 **Skyway Drive, District One**

Academy kids are all jackasses. Ever since Glory won, the academy has kicked it into another drive, with everyone looking to be the one to complete District One's second three-peat. Once the quell twist was announced, that just made things even more extreme, with only one person able to be the chosen volunteer, and genders now combined into one class. Add into that a bunch of twenty-somethings that missed their chance a few years back looking to redeem themselves, and it's no surprise things have gotten a bit tense. Doesn't change the fact that every one of those kids is an ass, though.

In practice spars there's no official rules, but since it's just practice, there's the unspoken rule that you don't fight dirty. But apparently when it's against me, nobody gives a damn about playing clean. In every single other match-up everybody fought fair and reserved, but against me they brought out every dirty trick they could muster. Luckily for me I know how to play dirty a hell of a lot better than any of those assholes do.

I turn the corner up to my home, pull the rag off of my arm and throw it in the trash, the cut on my arm mostly stopping to bleed. Pulling the key out from my pocket, I swing the door open and stomp in, kicking off my shoes and slinging my bag onto the floor before walking into the living room.

Surely enough, Joel is seated on the couch, his gaze flickering up from his newspaper for just a moment to look at me before looking back down. I stand still in the middle of the room for a moment before sighing, and begin to trudge towards my bedroom, before Joel interrupts me. "You look like hell," he sighs, setting down the newspaper on the table.

"They look worse," I reply coldly, bringing up the sleeve of my shirt and wiping a trickle of blood on my chin.

"Didn't realize that the academy allowed kids to dice each other up," he snorts, shaking his head. "Or that they don't dish out first aid."

"It's just a few cuts," I murmur offhandedly, waving my hand at him as I wipe my cheek with my other.

"You look like someone carved the alphabet onto your face," he grunts.

"Yeah?" I ask with mock enthusiasm as I pull off my socks and bring them up to my face to wipe up the blood.

"Yeah," he replies, eyeing me up for a moment before sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You wanna talk about what happened?" He sighs, looking at me with unsure eyes.

I eye him back with equal hesitation, sock pressed against my cheek as I tilt my head, trying to figure out his game. "Since when do you care," I murmur, crumpling up the sock and tossing it onto the ground.

He shuffles in his seat uncomfortably, eyes drifting to the ground. "You just look like something's bothering you," he mutters hesitantly.

"Yeah," I reply softly, crossing my arms. "That's been a pretty common thing lately," I murmur bitterly, taking on a sudden interest with the rest of the room as I avoid eye contact with Joel, who looks equally keen to do the same.

"This time seems different."

I snort at that, shaking my head. "What, you mean the fact that Tracey tried to fucking kill me in training? Or all the other kids that pulled my hair, gouged my eyes, and tried to choke me in fucking spars?"

"Eye gouging?" He asks with a scoff and a raised eyebrow.

"She tried," I mutter. "Put me in a choke hold, pulled my hair, and tried to jam her fat fingers into my eyes."

"Tried to?"

I crack a half smile, shrugging. "Her choke hold was a bit loose. Bit her right in the arm, apparently it's gonna scar."

He laughs at that, a real laugh, the first one I've heard from him in the past nine months. "And the Tracey girl? The one that tried to kill you?" He asks amusedly, a thin smile appearing on his lips.

A smile forms on my lips too, and I shrug casually, pulling my pocket knife out to show him. "She's lower in the ranking in me, so they gave her a sword to my knife as a handicap. She needs it," I whisper, earning another chuckle from Joel. "So instead of just, you know, sparring and practicing moves, she went freaking crazy and started slashing out at my neck and head, gave me a nasty cut on the cheek," I run my finger along the slice, frowning as my hand comes down covered in red.

"So what'd you do?" Joel asks with a wide grin, leaning forward, fully immersed in the story.

"We-ell," I drawl, a smirk on my lips as I twirl the knife around in my hand. "I'm not undefeated in spars for nothing. Gave her the 'ol one-two," I slash out my knife into the air. "Slit her wrist and cut up her pretty little face."

Joel seems to be just barely holding in laughter as he looks at me with wide eyes, shaking his head in disbelief. "Seems like they learned their lesson."

"Academy kids are dumbasses," I wave off, folding up my knife and slipping it into my pocket. "They'll be back for more tomorrow, Tracey challenges me to a dual once a week."

"Sounds like a smart kid."

"Yeah, she's a real piece of work," I mutter, shaking my head bitterly. "I won't have to deal with her much longer though."

"You're moving up an age group?" He asks bemusedly.

"Well, I am on a forty-eight spar win streak," I shrug sheepishly.

He just shakes his head in disbelief. "So you're gonna be with the fourteens then?"

"Fifteens," I correct him with a small burst of pride. It's not like I'm a cocky person or anything that needs to brag about their accomplishments, but it's pretty nice to have someone to be just a bit of a braggart with. Ever since Tracey turned into a complete ass. . . I haven't really had anybody to talk to. I forgot how nice it felt to be able to just talk with someone, without worrying about them having some sort of ulterior motive to it.

He quirks a half smile. "That's mighty impressive. Your. . ." he pauses for a moment, before offering a reassuring smile. "Your dad'd be proud," he says softly.

"Yeah," I reply quietly, tucking my hands into my pockets and staring down at my feet. "He would."

 **Prestige Freeman, 15, District One**

 **May 18th, Year 101**

 **Pioneer Field, The Capitol**

The ball is an extension of my foot as I dribble down the side, tip-toeing the out of bounds line, sprinting past the defenders. There's only two more defenders between me and their goalie, and I do a fake pass to the middle, fooling one of them as I run head on at the other, making a sharp diagonal cut towards the goal.

The boy is the only one on the field that doesn't tower over me, only being a couple inches higher than me, and an idea forms in my brain, a smug smile slipping onto my lips as I come to a sharp stop in front of him. He stabs out at the ball and I swiftly roll it the right and pick the ball up in between my heels, flicking it over the head of the boy. He dully glances upwards as I slide around him and slowly dribble up, fake a shot to the right that has the goalie diving, and just for the fun of it- Rabona it into the left corner.

A whistle blows and I throw my hands up into the air, an easy smile on my lips as my teammates rush up to me, patting me on the back and head and laughing at my shot. Even the goalie doesn't seem upset, just shaking his head in disbelief as he dusts off his legs.

"And with that," the booming voice of the announcer calls out. "The score is now seven to one, with District One taking a commanding lead over the Capitol here in the final minutes of the Youth League Championship, as number zero scores her fifth goal and seventh point of the contest."

"Prestige!" Coach calls from the sidelines, a beaming smile on his lips as he waves me in.

I do my best to hide my disappointment as I sprint over, one of the older boys taking my spot at center mid-field. Coach nods at me with that same wide grin, tossing me a bottle of water that I greedily down, forcing myself to stop drinking at halfway empty. I plan on doing some sprints after the game, and don't want to be cramping up for that, no matter how good water feels on my throat right now.

"Hey," Coach says, patting me on the shoulder. "Great job out there, I just want to give some of the older kids a chance to get in there. It'll probably be their last game they play, and I think this is a good finisher for 'em."

"I understand, coach," I pant out. "I was just having fun out there is all," I say honestly, bouncing up and down and rolling my head back and forth, eyes locked on the clock fast approaching ninety minutes.

"I could tell," he chuckles. "I'm sure that rainbow will get some time on Capitol TV."

"It wasn't that good," I wave off. "He stabbed out at me, it'd be more impressive if I managed to not get past him."

He just smiles and hits me lightly on the shoulder. "Don't be so humble, you just styled on a Capitol team, go ahead and be a little bit cocky. Just not too much," he winks, earning a genuine smile from me as I lightly nod.

"Sure thing, coach," I say softly, bouncing in excitement as the last possession is called, our defenders stealing away the ball just a moment later as the whistles blow.

Our whole sideline goes insane, whooping and hollering, throwing balls, water bottles, and anything else they can get their hands on into the air, running circles around the field. I just stay on the sideline and watch, taking a quick step back as a few of the boys pour a container of water on coach, barely holding in laughter as he chases after them, waving his dripping wet clipboard like a maniac.

The whole audience seems to be in complete shock at the outcome, split halfway between stunned silence and thrilled excitement. When the 'District vs Capitol soccer showcase' was announced, everyone thought that it was going to just be a quick vacation before we get publicly embarrassed by an actual team. I remember in warm-up overhearing a few of the Capitol kids joking about how we couldn't find enough players, so we had to bring a girl along just to fill the roster. Their smiles got wiped pretty quickly when I had a hat trick by the fifteen minute mark.

The celebration on the field is beginning to temper down, and after taking a last sip of water, I give myself one more moment to take in the feeling of winning. The cheering crowd, the stunned Capitolites, my teammates running up and down the field, jumping and pumping their fists into the air. Over the speakers they announce the award ceremonies will start in just ten minutes, and with that I toss my near empty bottle onto the turf and begin to jog along the sidelines, slowly picking up my speed as I move along.

When I pass by the stands, a light cheer rises, a few men and women with notepads calling out my name as I sheepishly avert my eyes to the ground, a shy smile on my lips as my cheeks turn red.

With my eyes on the ground, I find myself bumping into the back of somebody, both of us stumbling and barely keeping ourselves on our feet. Instantly my cheeks burn about twenty shades darker, and I scratch the back of my neck nervously. "Sorry, I-" I glance up mid-sentence and immediately cut myself off as I see the man standing in front of me, looking down at me with an easy smile.

"Number Zero," he reads my jersey, then looks up to my face, extending his hand. "Prestige Freeman, I presume?"

"Y-y-yeah," I stutter out, trying and failing to sound suave as I take his handshake, cringing as I realize how sweaty my hands are.

He doesn't seem to care, though, keeping his eyes locked on me as he looks to be in thought. "You seem like you recognize me?" He asks with just a bit of surprise.

"Lars Atrius," I reply breathlessly, not even attempting to sound any less star-struck than I am. "Of course I do," I say, bouncing on my toes as I do my best to remain calm. "You're the manager for the Sabres." He raises an eyebrow at this, and I quickly explain. "They- _You've_ been my favorite team forever."

"You've seen us play? Well, now I'm embarrassed," he laughs.

I shrug. "My trainer bought me access to the sports station for my birthday a few years ago."

"Ah, so you've seen our glory years," he jokes.

"You'll get out of last place eventually," I shrug, giving a small smile.

"That would be why I'm here," he says with a knowing smile that causes my heart to skip a beat.

"Yeah?" Is all I can choke out, causing his smile to grow wider.

"Yup, I originally came here to scout the talent on the 'best the Capitol youth has to offer,' but," he leans in, and whispers into my ear, "I didn't see much talent."

I let out a quick laugh, before shyly shrugging. "Their goalie was okay, his defenders just kind of stunk. . . he's not better than Marcellus though," I quickly add, not wanting to dis the teams 'star' player. "You guys just need a few scorers so you can average more than zero point four goals per game."

He widens an eyebrow at this, chuckling into his fist. "Seems you know more about my team than I do," he jokes, causing my cheeks to burn a bright red. "But no, there definitely wasn't anyone from the Capitol that was scoring many goals. . ." he pauses for a moment, tapping his clipboard with a pen as he stares at me thoughtfully. I do my best to look calm under his gaze, but can't help the jitters that run through my body.

"Tell you what," he finally says, jotting something down quickly. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen," I reply quickly.

He frowns at this, bringing the cap of the pen up to his chin, tapping it thoughtfully. "And when do you turn sixteen?"

"November twenty-sixth, sir."

Nodding his head, he scribbles a few more things down before tearing off a piece of paper and handing it to me. "Here," he says.

I cautiously take the slip, almost afraid to even look at it as I grasp it tightly in my hands. "What is it?" I shakily ask.

"That's my personal cell number," he tells me casually. "The day that you turn sixteen I want to bring you in to the Capitol for tryouts, I think Coach Cartier will want to see you in action personally."

I'm at a complete loss of words, staring between the man in front of me and the paper in my hands, sure that if I look away from either of them for even a moment that they'll disappear. This can't be possible, this has to just be a dream. . . "Th-th-thank you," I stammer out, a stupid smile forming on my lips as I continue to look up at him in disbelief.

"Now, I don't know the full logistics of how this all works, but I skimmed the new rules during halftime, and from what I gathered it seems like once we sign you on the team, you become a permanent Capitol citizen. Now, your family won't be able to live in the Capitol with you, so if that's a problem-"

"Not a problem," I quickly answer, staring at him slack-jawed, eyes wide in awe. Now I _really_ can't believe this is happening. I'll get to move to the Capitol to play _soccer_ for a _living_. Even in my absolute wildest dreams I never thought that I could ever do that. I'd call myself crazy to even wish for something so ridiculous.

"Don't get me wrong, it won't be all a cake-walk," he warns. "You're a five foot tall girl who'll be playing in a league dominated by men. Even on our team, some people won't be happy to see a 'little girl' taking up a roster spot, and they won't hesitate to say that to your face."

"That's fine," I shrug, nothing else that he can possibly say to bring me down right now. "I'll just prove them wrong," I promise, a fire burning in my eyes as I look up at him in determination.

"That's the attitude," he slaps me on the shoulder, offering me a smile which I widely return. "You get in contact with me as soon as you get back home and we'll figure out all the logistics, all right? Nobody's moved from District One to the Capitol yet, so there's gonna be a lot of yellow tape to get through, even if it is technically legal now."

"Yes sir," I reply automatically, practically bouncing in place as I nod my head.

Over the speakers they call for our team to come to the center of the field for the awards ceremony, and he nods his head over to the stage. "Go on, I'll be speaking with you soon."

I quickly nod my head, turning and bounding over to the rest of my team, a stupid grin locked onto my lips, walking on air as I cross the field. "Yes sir," I whisper to myself.

 **Glory Fairfax, 10, District One Mentor**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **The Town Center, District One**

Every bone in my body seems to be wildly shaking, fighting its way past my skin and out of my body as I steadily rock back and forth, deep breaths as I stare dully ahead. On stage the mayor is giving an introductory speech, talking briefly about all of the other victors, even offering a quick eulogy for Lucian before moving on to me. Right as he says my name thunderous applause rises from the crowd, and I swallow a lump in my throat as the mayor laughs, attempting to calm everyone down.

I shut my eyes, and go back to Melody's words she gave me before she went out to take her seat, leaving me back here alone. _"Just ignore the crowd and look at me, I'm with you all the way."_

Those words oddly manage to calm me down, and I open my eyes back up just in time to see the mayor motioning over to me. "Ladies and gentlemen, I introduce to you our most recent, and youngest ever victor, Glory Fairfax!"

The cheers are deafening as I walk out with small steps, glancing at the endless rows of people filling the square for just a moment before switching my gaze to the row of chairs for the victors, Melody turning around and giving me a warm smile while Galavant politely applauds, Luxor stone-faced as he stares forward. With another deep breath, I nod to the mayor and give him a polite smile, before quickly walking over to the row of chairs and taking my seat next to Melody, who pats me on the shoulder as I sit, giving me a reassuring smile.

"And now," the mayors booming voice echoes through the square. "It is my distinguished honor to introduce to you our new escort, the seasoned Aurelia Thylos!"

Another round of applause comes from the crowd, this one less deafening than mine, but still ridiculously loud. Our escort, a forty-year-old woman who doesn't look a day past her late twenties(although, which Capitolite does?), struts out on stage with a serious look, lifting a leg daintily behind her as she taps the mic. She looks pretty normal, for a Capitolite that is, with platinum blonde hair in a bun and an only slightly ridiculous outfit- decked out in all sorts of jewels and gems.

"Hello, thank you all for the warm greeting. It is my pleasure to escort for this fine district in Helix's unfortunate passing, and I am as eager as all of you are to meet the fine tributes you will surely produce. Before we get into the reaping, as a short reminder, volunteering is not allowed for either the reaped tribute, nor the person chosen by the originally reaped tribute. The age limit for both the reaping and selection will be from eight to twenty-two, you may choose a partner from either gender, and once a name is selected, that decision is _final_."

She pauses a moment to both catch her breath, and allow the information to sink in. Most of the district already knew these rules, with a lot of people in the academy angry about the no volunteering rule, but she still has to go through them first anyways, just to be sure.

"So with that out of the way, let's select our first tribute, shall we?" She asks, still stone-faced as ever despite her cheery tone. It's honestly a bit creepy how she manages to sound so excited yet look so uncaring.

Aurelia walks over to the lone reaping ball, a gigantic one filled with well over double the amount of names as usual. She doesn't waste any time with flashiness, snatching the first slip that her fingers touch from the very top of the ball, plucking it out and strutting back to the podium. Once there she unfolds the paper and pauses for a moment, a thick silence filling the air.

For the first time in nearly a hundred years, people are scared for the District One reaping. Whoever gets chosen this time won't have a volunteer to bail them out, they'll have to face the Games, just like every other district. The fact seems to hang in the air, a thick tension throughout the town center, and even though I'm not in the pool, even my heart stops. Noble is eighteen, and is hoping to get reaped so he can get a chance to go in the Games, unsure if the extended age limit will last longer than one year. Modesty is less excited about going into the Games, but seemed casual about the idea of her being reaped earlier today. But even if they may not care if, or even want to get reaped, I still keep my fingers crossed in between my knees, praying that neither of them get chosen. I can't lose a sibling to the Games, not again.

"And your tribute for the One-Hundred and first Annual Hunger Games is. . . Hailey Hills!"

I let out my breath, and Melody gives my shoulder a squeeze, letting out an audible breath of her own. With how worried about my siblings going into the Games I've been, I can't begin to imagine how Melody and Gal have been feeling. The thought of having your kid ripped away and forced into the Games against their will. . . I'm never having kids.

I'm snapped back into reality as there's a struggle in one of the middle sections, two Peacekeepers gripping onto the arms of a girl, dragging her out into the aisle. The girl is small, probably in her early teens, and looks vaguely familiar- maybe someone from Modesty's class. She has light brown hair that drapes over her shoulders and down to her chest, the sides of the hair nearly covering up her right eye as she struggles against the Peacekeepers, kicking back and forth, her light brown eyes bearing into the two angrily.

"Let. Me. Fucking. Go," she grunts, sending a wild kick at one of the Peacekeepers groin, sending the man down to his knees. The girl turns to the other Peacekeeper and punches him in the gut, shoving him away as he keels over. Instead of running once she's free though, she just dusts herself off, tugging on her jacket. "I know how to walk, assholes," she mutters, quickly walking up to the stage, the Peacekeepers all looking between the girl and themselves uneasily.

"Dibs," Galavant whispers, earning an eye roll as Melody hits him on the shoulder.

The girl manages to make it the rest of the way up the stage without incident, and Aurelia, seemingly un-phased by what just happened, offers her a hand up the stage, but she ignores the help, brushing past Aurelia and climbing up the steps.

"Well, you're certainly a spunky one, aren't you?" Aurelia comments casually, holding up the microphone to Hailey to let her respond.

She just glares back in response, before a wistful smile appears on her lips for just a moment. "That's one hell of a way to put it," she murmurs quietly, staring out to the crowd, eyes scanning the audience.

Aurelia just nods her head. "Well, as you know, there can be no volunteers, which means you're officially the first District One's tributes this year. How do you feel?"

"Like a victor," she replies with confidence, eyes still dodging around the crowd. She finally seems to find who she's looking for, her eyes locking as a fiery look falls over her features. "I'm coming home, I promise," she says quietly, and she sounds so serious that it's hard to not believe her.

"Confidence, I like it. Now, it's your turn to choose who your partner will be in the Games with you."

The realization seems to hit Hailey by surprise, her features faltering as nervousness seeps into her eyes, darting around the sections wildly. "Um. . ." she trails off, a light shake in her leg that she attempts to stomp out, biting her lip as she scans the crowd.

"Take your time, it's an important decision," Aurelia says, offering her first smile of the day, even if it seems forced and quickly dissipates.

"I-" Hailey cuts herself off, shaking her head and closing her eyes, taking in a deep breath.

"Wednesday Harper," Galavant murmurs under his breath. "C'mon, just say her name, don't pull any BS on us here."

A few murmurs begin to run through the crowd, and a few people even shout out Wednesday's name. With just one look at Hailey though, it's obvious that she knows the name of the chosen volunteer, but something is stopping her from saying it. After a long minute, she swallows a lump in her throat, and takes a step forward, letting out a deep breath as she slams her eyes shut. "Prestige Freeman," she chokes out in a pained voice, recoiling as soon as the words leave her lips.

The whole center falls into a stunned silence, not even an inch of movement in the pens as everyone stares at Hailey slack-jawed.

"Shit," Galavant mutters, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I think I recognize the name. . ." Melody murmurs, looking deep in thought.

We don't have to wait much longer to see Prestige, as a girl steps out from the fifteens section, looking just as shocked as the rest of the district. Along with that shock is something else though, as soon as she steps out into the aisle and locks eyes with Hailey, she looks absolutely furious for just an instant, before it fades away and is replaced by hurt.

The girl is even smaller than Hailey is despite having a couple of years on her, and looks fairly similar to Hailey, except for having lighter features and a younger looking face. She's wearing what most be the most casual outfit of a District One tribute in history, just athletic shorts and a grey t-shirt, with a too-big-for-her green jacket thrown lazily over her shoulders.

With careful steps the girl walks forward, eyes locked with Hailey the whole way through, enough pain in the two of their eyes to know that there's something more than just anger between the pair.

Prestige also denies the help up the steps, seeming to not even notice Aurelia as she continues to walk towards Hailey, stopping just a few inches away from her, the two face to face, Hailey looking sick with guilty while Prestige looks unsure whether to cry or scream.

Aurelia steps in between the two, and turns to Prestige with the microphone raised. "Prestige, you are now the second tribute for District One who will be looking to complete the three-peat, how do you feel?"

Prestige just stares back with a look of disbelief, before turning to the crowd with a similar look, her eyes filled with so much pain and confusion that I get a sick feeling in my stomach. "I-" she shakes her head, and turns to Hailey, bringing her hands up to her hair, pulling on it anxiously. "Why?" She chokes out, and Hailey averts her gaze to the ground, her eyes watery as she forces them shut.

Aurelia seems to sense that now would be a good time to end things, and with a cough, places the microphone down on the podium and turns to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen," she announces, reaching out to each of the girls for their hands, and ignoring them once they both forcefully tug away from her grip. "Your tributes for the One-Hundred and first Annual Hunger Games, Hailey Hills and Prestige Freeman!"

* * *

 **A/N: Here's our first introduction chapter! A bit long, I know, but I really do want to develop all of these tributes a ton before we get to the Games, and I just have a lot of fun writing these introductions. On top of these intros, each tribute will be getting either a goodbye or train ride, an alliance POV during training, and one other miscellaneous POV throughout the pre-games.**

 **While I have most of the alliances plotted out right now, if you see a tribute that you want your character to ally with, drop me a PM or review and tell me, and I'll see what I can do!**

 **I'm not totally sure what I'm going to do sponsor-system wise, but for now I'm going to keep in place the same system as last time, with one point being awarded for each review, and then points also awarded for answering Trivia questions at the end of each chapter, which will be both actual trivia, and just general chapter questions.**

 **I hope that you guys liked our first chapter, and make sure to let me know your thoughts on anything and everything about this chapter! The writing, the tributes, Glory, Aurelia, the format. . . I love hearing what you guys think!**

 **Trivia(1 point): In my HC, what state is D1 located in? I left a good amount of hints in the chapter about it, so take your best bet!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Who did you like better, Hailey or Prestige?**


	4. D4: First Loves and Bigger Dreams

_"First Loves and Bigger Dreams"_

* * *

 **A/N: Here's our second introduction, where we'll visit D4! Same rules as last time apply in terms of their ages being their age during that POV, and not at current time, so keep that in mind. Also, as a side note, I didn't forget Cyril, I just plan on doing his and Peeka's intro after all of the other districts since theirs will have a slightly different format.**

 **Warning: Again, some vulgar/offensive language here, in Merrium's second POV in particular. Gossipy 19-year-old girls, man.**

* * *

 _~Wise men say_

 _Only fools rush in_

 _But I can't help falling in love with you_

 _Shall I stay?_

 _Would it be a sin~_

* * *

 **McKenna "Kenzie" Bay, 14, District Four**

 **August 16th, Year 98**

 **Pacific Gateway Park, District Four**

The blazing sun beats down against my warm face, and I roll off my back and onto my side, my sea green eyes batting lightly as I stare into the deep blue eyes laying on the soft grass next to me. An easy smile forms on my lips as I rest my head on my arms, the long grass prickling against my arms as I shuffle towards the blue eyes staring into mine.

"Hi," I say softly, a quick giggle escaping as he smiles back at me, a hint of his white teeth flashing before he looks down to the ground, his eyes shyly avoiding mine as they flirt to the grass, daintily plucking a dandelion and twirling it in between his fingers.

"Hey," he says in that light voice of his, gently bringing the dandelion up to my forehead and planting it in my hair.

Just as soon as he lets go, the flower falls out, bumping against my nose and gently falling to the ground, the two of us both lightly laughing, Everette rolling back onto his back and gazing up into the sky, just a few fluffy clouds of bright white slowly travelling across the baby blue backdrop.

I shuffle over a few inches towards him, resting my head on his warm chest, sighing as he wraps an arm around my shoulder, squeezing me tighter and glancing down at me with those big, deep, serene eyes. The faintest hint of a smile creeps onto his lips, and I close my eyes, a content smile forming as I bring a hand up his chest, the whole world around me fading away. Nothing in the world mattering but me and him.

One eye slips open as I glance up at Everette, and he plucks another dandelion from the ground, slowly bringing it towards my ear. This time when he daintily places the flower in my hair, it stays in place, and I can't help but giggle at the proud look that appears on his face.

"You," I poke him in the chest. "Should be a stylist," I tease, earning a silly grin from Everette as he gently shakes his head.

The two of us fall back into a peaceful silence after that, Everette resting his eyes as I continue to look up at him, imprinting his image into my memory, never wanting to forget this moment. A part of me feels like it doesn't even matter, that this won't ever end, that the two of us will just lay here forever, my silly smile and his stupid grin never fading, the sun never falling from the bright blue sky.

But no matter how much I cling to this moment, every time I look up into the sky it looks just a little bit darker, the sun shining on us just a little less brightly, slowly descending below the line of trees in the distance. Everette's chest rises and falls, my head bobbing up and down as I brush the back of my hand against his cheek, smiling as his eyes flutter open, deep as an ocean as they stare down into mine.

"Morning," he lazily yawns out, and I lightly slap him on the chest, giggling as I shake my head.

"It's sunset, silly," I tiredly tell him, nuzzling against his chest.

His eyes widen, and I giggle again as he stares wide-eyed up into the sky, blinking in disbelief. "Oh," is all he's able to murmur out, running a hand gently through my hair. He bites his lip nervously, gazing out in the distance.

"What is it?" I ask gently, clutching onto his chest, willing for him to never have to leave.

"I'm supposed to run some errands in the town tonight," he sighs, resting his head back and staring up into the air.

"I thought that you only go to the town on Sundays," I murmur, voice muffled by his shirt as my eyes drift shut.

"It is Sunday," he laughs.

My eyes widen, and I immediately climb up to my knees, dusting off my shirt as I hurriedly check the sun to see what time it is. "Crap!" I mutter, the sun already just a half hour from setting.

"What is it?" He asks bemusedly, with a grunt lifting himself up into a sitting position.

I'm on my feet now, frantically zipping up my bag and slinging it over my shoulders. "My grandma is expecting me," I breathe out, nervously grabbing at my hair.

"Don't worry about it Kenzie," Everette waves off with his casual, worry free voice. "I'm sure she'll understand."

"Understand what?" I snap, Everette flinching back in surprise at my sharp tone. "That I missed a meeting I _begged_ for her to let me attend just to waste time with a boy?"

I let out a moan of anger, pacing back and forth with my hands pressed to my forehead. Everette just shrinks back, shrugging. "I wouldn't call it a waste of time," he softly offers.

I glance over at Everette, looking into his puppy eyes as he offers up a warm smile, and for a moment I falter. I quickly shake it off though, shaking my head and turning away from him, bag slung over my back as I look bitterly to the ground. "I can't keep on doing this," I murmur tiredly.

"Keep doing what?" He asks after a moments hesitation.

"This," I sigh. "I have so much going on right now. Training, working for my grandma, my schoolwork. . . I don't have time for this," the words come out in just above a whisper, and they hurt like hell to say, but I know that it's true. I've known that it's true for the entire summer, yet I've still kept this thing stringing along, living in la la land and throwing away my future for a single feeling. It doesn't matter how good that feeling is, or how much I desperately want to have it, it isn't worth more than everything else I've worked for.

"You mean you don't have time for me," Everette whispers, his voice coming out pained, causing me to cringe as I turn even further from him, my back fully to him as I stare up at the dark blue sky.

"I'm sorry," I tell him honestly, not sure what other words I can possibly say to make this hurt any less for either of us.

"So I guess this is goodbye," he awkwardly chokes out, shuffling his feet behind me.

"I hate goodbyes," I murmur.

"Me too."

The two of us stand still for what feels like hours, a hundred words at the tip of my tongue, but I keep my mouth clamped shut, and with a steeled resolve, begin making steady steps forward, forcing myself to keep looking forward as I walk away. As I walk away out of the park and all they way home, with my eyes peeled forward, never looking back.

Never saying goodbye.

 **Merrium Solera, 17, District Four**

 **February 12th, Year 99**

 **Seaside Junior High, District Four**

"-and don't forget that you have an assignment due over the weekend," our teacher frantically calls out just as the bell goes off, the whole class immediately sliding out of their desks and hurrying towards the door as Ms. Cetra slumps down into her chair.

"Hey Merrium," Adrienne greets in her overly sincere voice, brushing back her hair as she flashes a smile. "Me, Verona, and Carmella found the _best_ little restaurant over in the-"

"No thanks," I cut her off with an exaggerated smile, not even bothering to hold it as I turn away from her and sling my bag over my shoulder.

"Uh, why not?" Adrienne demands.

"Probably to spend more time with the street urchin," Verona giggles, and I have to clench my fists to stop myself from throwing a fist at her right here and now.

"He's not a street urchin," I grunt through gritted teeth, not about to let them make up lies about my boyfriend.

"Merrium, _please_ ," Adrienne sighs. "His entire life is worth less than the paint on my nails," she says, not so discretely showing off her brand new fake, bright pink fingernails, tapping them lightly against my desk.

I open my mouth to deny that, but clamp it shut as I realize that it is the truth, as much as that fact stings. Why couldn't Jaisen just be rich? Then nothing could get in the way of us being together.

"Why are you wasting your time with him, Merrium, you're better than him," Carmella tells me sternly, Verona and Adrienne nodding in agreement.

"He's sweet," I shrug uncomfortably, hating how defensive they're making me feel. I'm supposed to be the one that's in charge, nobody is supposed to be looking down at me.

"Speaking of the rat," Adrienne mutters, as Jaisen pokes his head into the classroom, his face lighting up as soon as he lays eyes on me. He flashes me a wide grin as he steps into the room, and I return the smile feebly, looking out the corner of my eyes at my friends looks of disgust.

They part like Jaisen has the plague as he walks over to me, all of them keeping their distance and sharing distasteful glances. Jaisen clearly sees exactly what they're doing, but doesn't mind one bit, his carefree smile still in place as he stops in front of me, gently placing his warm hand on my cheek. "Hey babe," he greets cheerfully, a dreamy look in his eyes that melts my heart.

"Hey Jaisen," I reply quietly, shrugging away from his touch shyly, eyes darting between him and my friends. "I'll be with you in just a moment, alright?"

He gives me a knowing look, nodding his head. "I'll be waiting right outside, I got a surprise for you too," he winks.

"Really?"

"Well, Valentine's day is just a couple days away, isn't it?" He mentions, a sly grin on his lips as he pecks me on the cheek, earning an audible grunt of disgust from Verona that causes Jaisen's smile to falter for just a second. It's quickly back in place though, and he gives me a tiny nod before turning and quickly walking out the room, leaving me back alone with my friends.

My gaze lingers on the doorway he just left for a long moment, not wanting to turn and face the judging stares of my friends. I'm eventually forced to though, and with a sigh, I face the trio, my cheeks rosy in embarrassment. God, why couldn't Jaisen just be rich? A part of me knows that my friends are right, and that I deserve better, but it's hard to ignore that feeling I get in my gut every time I look at him. Why do I have to choose between my status and him? Why does the world have to be so cruel!

"I know," I sigh, shaking my head as the three all stare at me with gaping mouths.

Adrienne is the first one to break out of shock. "I knew that you were having a fling with him, but ' _babe_ ,' really? Don't tell me you're actually going steady with him."

"I know!" I repeat, slumping back down into my seat and running a hand through my hair nervously. "He's a fisherman's son who's always been and always will be poor."

"And you are Merrium _Solera_ ," Adrienne reminds me, poking me harshly in the chest with her long nails. "So why in the world would you ever even spare that boy a glance?"

Verona flips back her hair, giggling lightly. "My mom set me up with a CEO, we're going out to eat next Saturday," she brags, fawning over herself as she looks in the air dreamily. "He's going to take me out on his yacht."

"That's nothing," Carmella waves off, a shit-eating grin on her lips. "Merrium's boyfriend probably takes her out on the ocean in his paddle boat."

The three all laugh at that, and I try to glare at them, but quickly find the harshness fading from my face, my eyes fluttering to the floor.

The laughter finally dies down, and Adrienne places a hand on my shoulder, sighing as she gives me a serious look. "Merrium, we're only doing this because we care about you," she mopes. "We miss the old Merrium, we want you back," she pouts, holding her arms out wide and giving me a reassuring smile.

I look between her and my hands for a minute, fighting a battle in my head. As much as I want to just leave and go be with Jaisen right now, the more I think about it the more I begin to realize how stupid that really is. I've been friends with these three for my whole life, and for that whole time I've spent every ounce of my effort into giving myself the most positive image possible. I'm the queen bee of the queen bees, the girl that every other girl wants to be, the creme de la creme. And now I'm going to just throw that all away? Seventeen years of work down the drain because of a silly schoolgirl crush for a boy I've only known a few weeks?

A smile creeps onto my lips as I throw myself into Adrienne's arms, giving her a tight hug. "Your right, I don't know what in the world has been wrong with me," I breathe out, cringing in pain, the words physically hurting to say. But they need to be spoken, no matter how much my gut screams at me for it.

"Love is a powerful drug," Carmella nods knowingly, giving me a reassuring smile. "It could have happened to any of us."

Adrienne pulls apart from me and quickly nods. "Definitely, and if it does happen to me you better be there to snap me out of it too."

"Of course," I say, forcing a smile onto my lips, throwing an arm around her shoulder and slinging my bag over my back. "What else are friends for?"

 **McKenna "Kenzie" Bay, 16, District Four**

 **December 31st, Year 100**

 **Skyway Private Training Academy, District Four**

My breath is calm, arms steady as I notch the arrow back, one eye closed, the other squinting, my focus on the target ahead of me. The bright red light is blinking along the wall in a predictable pattern, and it doesn't take long for me to know exactly where I need to shoot. That's never been the problem though, has it? The real problem comes from hitting the exact spot I want it to.

Hand to hand combat has always been more of my specialty, but since I'm barely four inches above five foot, I've been trying to diversify my skills a bit. If only knowing the fundamentals meant that you could actually hit where you wanted to.

I focus on the exact spot where the dot is going to be, and aim the arrow as close to the spot as possible. Then, once the dot is just a second away from hitting that spot, I release the arrow, watching as it sails through the air, lodging itself a full two feet from the now-frozen dot.

One point is subtracted from my score as I put the bow back on its rack with a sigh. My disappointment doesn't last long though before it's replaced by a giddy smile as Regina walks over to me, arms outstretched and a wide grin on her lips.

"Heya Kenzie," she waves. "Nice shot," she teases, flashing me an okay symbol and an exaggerated wink.

"Shut up," I laugh, walking to meet her halfway. "Take me on with no weapons and see what happens," I offer up light-heartedly.

She scratches the back of her neck, glancing down at her wrist to check a watch that isn't there, grimacing as soon as she glances down. "Ooh, you know, I would, but it is _really_ late, and I wouldn't want to keep you here much longer."

"Don't worry," I wave off, leaning in and patting her on the back. "It won't take long."

"I'm sure it wouldn't," she laughs, shaking her head. "So, aside from dropping fifty ranks by shanking all of your bow shots, what else are you up to tonight?"

Snorting, I roll my eyes. "I lost ten points today, not exactly the apocalypse."

She gasps, covering her mouth and looking around the otherwise empty training floor with wide eyes. "You mean _McKenna Bay_ doesn't care about losing her number one spot at something?"

"Shut up," I laugh out, trying and failing to sound serious as I lightly punch her on the shoulder. After a few seconds of laughter, I calm myself down and shrug sheepishly. "Besides, are you really telling me there's anyone else you'd put in the arena before me?"

"You're ridiculous," she laughs.

"But is there?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, earning another fit of laughter from her.

"Me personally?" She asks, gesturing to herself. "No way. But the rankings say differently. And I'm afraid they carry just a _tad bit_ more weight than I do," she jokes.

"Darn twenty-year-olds," I curse, snapping my fingers and giving her a cheeky smile. Ever since they announced the age extension, the two of us have talked the topic to death with how ludicrous we think it is to randomly equate older to better, but the stupidity of the academy isn't a topic that ever gets old.

"Nineteen," she corrects me with a knowing smile

"Not them," I groan, bringing my hand up to my face. "They spend more time doing their nails and chasing after playboys than they do training."

"The academy thinks that going the District One route of the 'ditsy slut' is a good future, apparently," she sighs with a shake of her head.

"They do have more victors than us now, so who knows," I shrug, doing my best to not crack up in laughter as Regina gives me a dumbfounded look.

"Yeah, because One has had a long history of their ditzes coming home as victors," she deadpans, nodding and giving me a thumbs up. "I mean have you seen their most recent victor? That Glory chick is one basic bit-"

"Jesus, Regina," I burst out, holding up my hand as I break out into laughter.

"Hey, only overly-sexualized idiots win the Games. You know it's true," she teases, giving me an exaggerated wink.

"The only thing I _know_ is that I gotta be at my grandma's in just a few minutes," I giggle, backing away from her and giving a short wave.

"Remember that advice though," she hollers as I backpedal away.

"Always," I yell back, barely holding in laughter as I turn around and walk out the academy, a silly smile on my lips as I shake my head in disbelief. I still can't quite believe that the academy would actually tell me in my report that I need to work on my 'sex appeal.' Or, as they so poignantly put it in my year-end report card, 'learn to flaunt what was naturally given to me.' District Four really is on a downwards trend lately.

It's not a surprise they're getting desperate to try out new strategies, considering that in the last twenty years our only victories have come from back-stabbers and an insane girl, but that they think copying District One is the winning strategy? Bleh, makes me sick to even think about it. But if they really do stick one of those gold diggers into the Games this year, they'll learn their lesson pretty quick, and'll come crawling back to me next year.

The walk from the academy to my home isn't a very long one, and pretty soon I'm approaching the front steps of the mayors residence, the Peacekeeper guards nodding to me as I walk past with a solemn expression, flipping off any thoughts of the past few minutes and focusing in on the task ahead.

I pause at the front door, closing my eyes as I clear my mind, filing away everything related to Regina, basic bitches, and training. Instead I force myself to focus on my grandma, the job she entrusted in me today, the state of mind I'll need to be in to complete it.

After a few seconds I open my eyes back up, letting out a deep breath and twisting the door open, strutting into the mudroom and up the stairs with purposeful steps, my flats clattering against the wood as I hold my head high and keep my eyes facing directly ahead. After climbing up another set of stairs I'm at the top floor, and surprisingly enough I find grandma in the living room, head in a pile of paperwork as she taps her chin thoughtfully with her pen.

"Hello grandma," I greet simply, putting away my surprise at seeing her outside of her study away.

She glances up from her papers, a warm smile as she spots me. "McKenna!" She says cheerily, much more enthusiastically than I would expect her to be while filling out a mountain of paperwork. "What can I do for you?"

I glance back at her with a raised eyebrow, wondering for a moment if she forget that she called me here in the first place. "You told me yesterday that you wanted my help with a bill?" I remind her.

Her eyes light up and she snaps her fingers, tapping her pen against the table. "Ah, I forgot," she shrugs.

"Oh, alright," I wearily reply, something in her eyes telling me that she's not telling the full truth.

"You know what, this bill isn't really anything exciting. Just an affirmation of an already existing law regarding the public academy spending budget. Lots of math, all very dull," she says with a warm smile, waving me off.

Now I really know that something is up, and I don't bother hiding my weariness as I cross my arms and raise an eyebrow at her. "Most bills aren't exactly exciting," I slowly tell her.

She just shrugs, turning her eyes back down to her paperwork. "It's the last day of the year, why don't you go spend some time with your friends?" She suggests, and I let out a heavy sigh as I realize what this is about, walking over to her desk and placing my hands and the table.

"Grandma," I sigh, looking her in the eyes, "you know that I'm not a kid anymore."

She smiles back softly. "McKenna, trust me when I say that I'm sure that you have a very bright future ahead of you. There isn't a fraction of doubt in my mind that you'll grow to be a much more successful woman than I could ever dream of being, and I can only hope to live long enough to see some of the great things that you'll accomplish."

A slight smile tugs at my lips at the bright compliment. For my grandmother, the first female mayor in Panem, to tell me that? It's hard to note feel a bit bubbly. But the bubbly feeling doesn't last long, her smile quickly turning from a complimentary one to a look that tells me that I'm about to here a major 'but' to her sentiments.

"But," I sigh, giving her a glazed over look.

" _But_ you will have plenty of time for all of that when you get older," she tells me. "You'll have the rest of your life to reach out for the stars, but you only get a few years to be a kid, and your time is starting to run out. I'd enjoy that time while you still have it, you can never get it back."

"And who's to say that I don't enjoy my time working with you?"

She just gives me a knowing look, as if that question isn't even worth a response as she lightly shakes her head. "You and I both know that you enjoy your time with your friends much more than you do attending political events with me, and don't even try to tell me otherwise."

"I may enjoy it more," I admit. "But I still have fun with politics, and at least that isn't a complete waste of time."

"Honey," she coos, reaching over and putting her hands on top of mine as she looks into my eyes with a wistful look. " _Nothing_ is a waste of time as long as you're happy. The only regret I have in my life isn't that I wasted too much time having fun, it's that I wasted so much of my life depriving myself of it."

I quirk her a half smile as I shrug, giving her my biggest puppy eyes. "Then why don't you go have some fun, and let me take care of this," I suggest, squeezing her hands.

She lets out a laugh, shaking her head. "My time for having fun is long past," she tells me with a soft smile. "But as much as you may like to pretend otherwise, you're still a kid for another year," she tells me, pointing at me with a wobbly finger. "So if you won't be happy about the years of childhood you still have left, at least do me a favor- and go celebrate getting one year closer to its end."

My eyes skim over to the clock on the wall, and I let out a defeated sigh, giving an accepting smile to her. "Alright, thirty minutes until the new year."

"Trust me, you'll gain much more with those thirty minutes doing anything _but_ filling out paperwork," she informs me.

"Okay, okay," I back up, hands in the air, a smirk on my lips. "But I'm making it my new years resolution to finish that paperwork for you," I tease her.

"Then I'd better hurry up and finish," she replies in kind, bowing her head and getting back into her stack of papers. "I'll see you next year, Kenzie," she calls out to me.

I roll my eyes as I hang by the door, a bright smile on my lips as I glance down to my feet. "See you next year, grandma."

 **Merrium Solera, 19, District Four**

 **May 24th, Year 101**

 **Monument Road, District Four**

"Oh. My. God. Did you see the outfit that Kayla was wearing?"

"Seriously. Who does she think she is?"

"A stripper apparently."

"Please, even a prostitute would have more self-respect than her."

"Hey, if she's not going to try to be jail bait, how else is she supposed to pick up men?"

"Please, even Jaisen wouldn't take that slut, isn't that right Merrium?"

I glance over at my friends at the mention of my name, my dreamy smile still in place as I absently nod. "Yeah, sure," I murmur, going back to staring at my ring finger with starry eyes.

"Somebody dreaming about what their ring will look like?" Verona teases.

"I'm thinking a five karat diamond," I fawn, holding my finger into the air daintily, imaging the sun reflecting off the jewel.

"Please," Adrienne waves off. "Hesperus is rich, not a Capitolite."

"You're just jealous because you only got a three point five karat ring," I reply dully, rolling my eyes as she huffs, covering her ring with her other hand while Verona giggles madly.

Adrienne shoots a sharp glare at Verona. "Say, how did your _date_ last night go?"

Now it's Verona's turn to huff and turn away with crossed arms. "I'm just taking my time to catch a bigger fish."

"Wait much longer to get a man and you'll never get one."

The two continue bickering back and forth for a few more minutes as we walk the downtown sidewalks, and thankfully it isn't long before we're passing Hesperus' house, and I'm able to quietly slip away. None of them so much as say goodbye as I silently fall behind the trio and begin to make a beeline for my soon to be fiance's mansion.

By the time I'm at the front door I'm practically sprinting, holding my frilly, sea green ankle length dress up to keep it from tearing against the ground, my heels clicking against the pavement with each step. When I climb up the steps to his front door I pause for a moment, double checking myself quickly to make sure everything is absolutely perfect, which it of course is.

Once my looks are in order, my most seductive smile creeps onto my lips, and I give two slow knocks on the door before leaning against one of the beams and waiting, biting my lip in anticipation. After today Adrienne isn't the one with the biggest catch anymore, and she can't brag about having the _richest husband._ I'll be the top dog again, the queen bee, just like I always have been and _always_ will be.

And while his money may be the reason I ever even considered going out with him, at least there's some sort of feelings between Hesperus and I- much more than can be said about Adrienne's situation. I have Hesperus spun around my finger, he's head over heels in love with me, and while he's not exactly my soulmate, there's some sort of love I feel towards him. More than there was at first, anyways.

Jaisen's image pops into my mind for a moment, but I quickly tuck it away, ignoring it. I don't want to think about that creep for even one second. Today is about me and Hesperus, not him. _Nothing_ is going to ruin my perfect day.

Luckily I'm not left to dwell on those memories for long before the door slips open, Hesperus' ripped frame leaning against the door as he flashes his devilishly white smile at me, flicking back his curly black hair and winking at me. "You look great," he sighs.

"I know," I grin, leaning in on my tip-toes and giving him a quick peck on the cheek before strutting past him.

He throws an arm around me as the two of walk through his long hallway, his toothy grin still widely in place, a slight shake in his leg as he bounces forward. He always has been so bad at hiding his excitement for things. Even if I didn't overhear him telling his parents that today was going to be the day, I'd probably be able to figure it out. Having a husband that can't keep a secret is always a good thing though.

Before long the two of us are out into his backyard, a massive beach with lawn chairs, picnic tables, and all sorts of sailing equipment. Some might say that it feels a bit odd having such a large area be completely empty, but when I lay my eyes on it right now my breath is taken away. _This_ is going to be mine. Love is so overrated.

I slip my heels off as we step off the porch and onto the beach, my bare feet sinking into the warm sand, toes squirming around as I look up to Hesperus with wide eyes. He's looking straight ahead at the ocean, stars in his eyes as he nervously breathes in, turning to me with a confident smile plastered on his lips. He really is cute when he's nervous.

"Merrium," he breathes out, choking out laughter as his eyes flirt up from the ground to meet mine, his bright, sea-green eyes shining as they bear into mine. "From the moment I met you, I knew that you were different than anyone else." His smile is bloated so wide his cheeks look ready to burst, and he takes another deep breath as he scratches the back of his neck. "I knew that you would be the one to spend the rest of my life with."

I mock surprise, widening my eyes and letting my mouth hang open as I stare up at him, his smile somehow managing to get even larger. "Merrium Solera," he chokes out, dropping down to one knee and taking a small box out of his pocket. "Will you marry me?" He unfolds the box and I let out a squeal as I lay eyes on the large diamond inside, nodding furiously as I reach my hand out to him.

"Yes!" I breath out, and he looks giddy as he shakily takes the ring out of its case, sliding it onto my finger and immediately climbing to his feet to envelop me in a hug. While he whispers words of excitement into my ear, I poke my head over his shoulder and glance down at my new ring, a sly smirk creeping onto my lips as I see it again.

Five karats, suck it Adrienne.

 **Carolina Delta, 39, District Four Mentor**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **The Town Center, District Four**

The reapings are always one of the most interesting parts of the Games. In outer districts it's a day of fear and nervous horror of being torn away from your life, while in the other Career districts it's a day of pride, honor, and celebration. What makes District Four so special is that it can be both. The name of the chosen volunteer has been plastered across the district for weeks now, but still there's a thick feeling of worry hanging over the crowd at who the unlucky soul will have to face the Games despite not wanting to.

Already the reapings for District One and Two have happened, and in both of those districts an unwilling participant was thrown in for the first time in decades, with District Two even having its first untrained tribute since the whole fiasco of the seventy-first Games. But hey, untrained tributes from Career districts are one for one for winning the Games since their revival after the rebellion, so maybe all hope isn't lost for us Careers to snatch away another victory. Just so long as District One doesn't get another one, they've had more than enough, thank you.

Mayor Bay's speech has been dragging on for a while now, with Muriel not showing any haste towards just getting the show on the road already. I'm a patient woman though, and so I continue to sit still and scan the crowd, making a game out of finding any kids I recognize from my academy. Most of the faces are unrecognizable, not many of the nineteen and up crowd returning to train after the rule change, but there's a few here and there who seem vaguely familiar.

"And it is my distinguished honor," the mayor finally announces, "to introduce to you our escort, back for her fourth year, Calypso Troy!"

Next to me Dewey groans in annoyance as the audience thankfully blocks it out with resounding applause, Troy socking him on the shoulder and telling him to shush, while Dewey just grumbles about his annoyance of this particular woman. I have to cover my mouth as a smile appears on my lips at the display, the sadistic psychopath reduced to a whining child thanks to some puppy love crush from a star-struck young Capitolite.

Calypso walks out on stage, holding her head high and strutting with dignity as she carries herself with the air of a woman in her elder years instead of one who looks like she could be a teenager. Her wide green eyes blink across the crowd, flickering over to Dewey every few moments, as I attempt- and nearly fail- to hold in my laughter at the affair. Calypso flips back her long, silvery hair out of her face, and offers an amiable front as she smiles warmly.

'Thank you all for the warm introduction, and welcome to the reaping for the one-hundred and first Hunger Games!" Her voice booms out to a half-hearted applause, only those outside of the reaping ages showing enthusiasm aside from a few excitable trainees. "Now as you all know, I'm not one for much theatrics, so I say that we find out the answer to everyone's burning question, who will be representing District Four in the Hunger Games?"

She doesn't even pause for applause this time, quickly moving to the large reaping bowl and plunging her hand to the middle of the bowl, tugging out her arm and miraculously managing to not cause more slips to spill out in the process. Once she has the paper, she again doesn't waste time before moving back to the podium and unfolding the slip.

The whole district goes eerily silence as she holds the slip up into the air, squinting to read the name in the glaring sun. "And our first tribute for the Hunger Games is Merrium Solera!"

As soon as the words exit her lips the whole crowd seems to collectively breathe out a sigh of relief, and even I feel just a twinge of gratefulness at the recognizable name. While the girl is by no means my first choice, she's still pretty solid with her weaponry, and will get a hell of a lot of sponsors for her looks alone, not to mention her willingness to use those looks to her advantage. I'm sure Dewey will have a fine time mentoring her anyways.

It doesn't take long for the woman to exit from the nineteen-year-old section, a seductive smile already firmly in place as she struts up to the stage, hips swinging as she moves. Yup, didn't take long for her to get started.

Calypso seems relatively happy at the confident and willing tribute, offering her a hand up the stage which Merrium graciously takes. Once the two are on stage and in front of the podium, Calypso turns towards her tribute with a warm smile, microphone held out. "How do you feel to be representing District Four in the Hunger Games?"

"Fantastic," Merrium smiles, biting her lip suggestively as she stares into the nearby camera. "Becoming victor has always been a dream of mine, and visiting the Capitol will be amazing."

"I'm sure you'll have a great time there," Calypso nods, shifting just a bit as she moves away from the quick interview. "Now, who would you like to choose to enter the Games with you?"

Merrium smiles, glancing out to the crowd and seeming to ponder the question for a moment. While the district was recommended to choose Viradie Luiz, we made it clear to all trainees that they can choose any of the other top-five ranked trainee. Excluding Merrium and Viradie, that only leaves a twenty-two-year-old brute of a boy, the mayor's granddaughter, and finally- who she's probably going to choose, her close friend Adrienne. A bit of a shame that I'll be stuck with another tactless ditz that relies on her looks over her skills, but I'll make do.

After a solid minute of thought, Merrium's smile widens and she turns to Calypso with a sly grin. "McKenna Bay," she announces, instantly earning a murmur of surprise to run through the crowd, even the mayor herself looking surprised at the pick.

While everyone else is confused, I can't help but let a relieved smile creep onto my lips as I lean back into my chair, silently thanking the gods for shining on my today. While all of the options would do just fine, McKenna is the full package as a tribute. She's one of the most intelligent trainees in academy history, and while she may lack the seductiveness of Merrium, she certainly isn't a plain-Jane herself, and will easily earn her fair share of admirers and sponsors in the Capitol.

Speaking of the devil, the girl walks out from the seventeen-year-old section, looking slightly surprised but still maintaining a confident look, offering a sure smile as she calmly walks forward. Her eyes look slightly dull, and I can see in them her mind calculating what to do and say, just like Merrium- already going to work with her strategy without waste. Maybe District Four can break the cold streak this year after all.

McKenna takes Calypso's help up the stage, a blank face as she nods at her in thanks, taking her spot next to Merrium and standing tall, an air of confidence exuding from her, looking like an equal next to the older girl despite the noticeable height difference.

"Congratulations McKenna," Calypso says with an excitable smile. "What would you like to say to the country?"

McKenna pauses for a moment to think, fully taking in the question before turning to the camera with a still-unchanged face, hiding any emotions. "While a lot of people are going to tell you today that they're going to be victor, _I_ can promise it to you. You're going to see what a District Four girl can really do."

Dewey chuckles a few chairs down, and leans forward, smiling at me. "Looks like we got a couple of winners this year."

"It would seem like it," I hum in agreement.

"District Four," Calypso announces proudly, thrusting each of the tributes hands into the air. "Your tributes for the one-hundred and first Hunger Games, Merrium Solera and McKenna Bay!"

* * *

 **A/N: I went a bit overboard on McKenna's 2nd POV, I know lol, but more words never hurt anyone. I REALLY loved this pair simply because they're both complex characters that have such similar parallels yet so opposite differences. There's still a ton more to these two that I couldn't even possibly fit into just this chapter, and I look forward to exploring them more in the future! Thank you Caleb and Tom for these two, and thanks to Jul for our escort Calypso!**

 **Thank you all so much for the reviews last chapter, and as always, make sure to tell me what you think of the chapter! I'll be seeing you guys next time in District Five!**

 **Trivia**

 **The correct answer to what state D1 is in was Montana, congrats to all that got that right through intuition and deductive reasoning. . . or peeking at my imgur map, *Dreamer* :P**

 **(1 point) Favorite tribute this chapter?**

 **(1 point) Now that we've seen 2 of the Career districts, what are your thoughts on the Career pack so far?**


	5. D5: Sickness and Health

_"Sickness and Health"_

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 **A/N:** **I meant to do this a lot earlier, but sort of forgot to, so here goes.**

 **Blanket warnings for this entire story: Vulgar language throughout and numerous dark themes including but not limited to mentions and thoughts of suicide, spousal and parental abuse, mentions of rape, attempted rape, and light gore(nothing too terrible). This story was already going to be much darker than Role Model, and the cast of tributes only makes that even more extreme. I'll give specific warnings if there's anything too terrible, but I just want to lay that all out there early on. The one thing I promise I'll never have though is smut, as I don't ever want to write that, and I doubt you guys want to read it either. Aside from that though, be prepared for the worst.**

 **So, with that out of the way, enjoy our D5 introductions with Levi Ezra and Sigma Krell!**

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 _~I see love in your eyes_

 _And if you see it in mine_

 _Let's wait 'til tomorrow_

 _Don't say good, say good_

 _Please don't say goodnight~_

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 **Sigma Krell, 9, District Five** _  
_

 **February 14th, Year 101**

 **Sector 4 Precinct, District Five**

My hand sweeps across the page, lightly dusting off the pink eraser marks as they fall gently onto my lap, just about blending in with my light pink blouse. The random doodles sprawled across the paper may not really mean anything, but something about just mindlessly scribbling is relaxing. It's like it transports me away from the world, away from District Five and into wherever I want to. Even if it's a bit of silly, and dad is right when he tells me I'm wasting my time with my 'head in the clouds,' I still can't help but do it anyways. Why just sit around and be bored in the real world, when I can just drift my eyes shut and be whoever I want to be?

At least Theta pretends that he understands me in that way, even if my dork of a brother could never in a million years just lay down on a couch and daydream for more than thirty seconds without imploding. He says it's his ADD, I say that it's just that his tiny brain can't come up with enough to think about that isn't related to food or being a giant dork. He got a goofy grin and just shook his head when I told him that once.

A smile slips onto my lips at the thought, and I lazily spin my pencil in a swirl while I rest my cheek on the table. My feet swing back and forth under the desk, still hanging a foot from the ground- even as I slink into my seat and stretch out my feet as far down as possible.

"Bored?" The voice of my brother calls out, his footsteps loudly stomping against the ground as he walks by me and sits at his desk(an actual work desk, unlike my tiny little station).

I don't even lift my head from the desk, giving a light shrug, dropping my pencil and switching to lightly tracing the bumps and crevices in the wooden table with my fingertips. He makes a loud slurping sound, probably drinking his sixth cup of coffee in the last five hours that I've been here, apparently trying to set a record for biggest addict in Panem.

"Well, then I got good news for you," he tells me giddily, and I peek up to see him grinning, standing up from his seat and slamming shut the file cabinet.

I look at him expectantly, widening my eyes and raising my eyebrows. He always loves to make a big show out of announcing secrets or surprises, knowing how much it annoys me for him to drag it on forever.

"Do you wanna hear it?" He teases lightly, flashing a cheeky smile as he slings his satchel over his shoulder.

With a heavy eye roll, I slowly nod my head.

He crouches down in front of my desk, dropping down to my height, reaching out and bopping me on the nose. "You know what day it is today?" He asks in a hushed whisper.

Sighing, I point down to my pink blouse and motion to the giant red heart on my white t-shirt, raising an eyebrow at him.

Theta chuckles, and nods his head. "More importantly," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out an envelope, "it's a holiday. Which means. . ." he reaches into the envelope and pulls out a wad of cash, slipping it into his pocket and bringing a finger up to his lips, a giddy smile in place. "Double pay. Don't tell mom and dad."

This gets my attention, and I bring my head up from the desk, a slight smile forming as I bring my hand up to my lips, zipping them shut.

Theta breaks out into loud laughter, covering his mouth with his fist as he shakes his head, ruffling my hair even as I scoot away from him, rolling my eyes. He doesn't seem to mind though, climbing to his feet and offering me a hand out of the seat. "You're funny, Sig," he laughs, earning a dull look at the nickname he loves to call me by, despite how stupid he knows it sounds.

Still though I take his hand as I hop down from the chair, giving him a quick squeeze as he leads me out of the room. By now most of the building is completely empty, just a few Peacekeepers and other workers like Theta still hanging around. Most of the Peacekeepers are out on patrol at this time, and those that aren't are off for the day. Only a skeleton crew stays any longer than eight, and thankfully Theta isn't one of them.

As we walk out of the building, Theta begins to hum, a kick in his step as he turns to me with a wide grin. He begins to hum louder and louder, snapping his fingers along to the beat as I cover my face in embarrassment. "And take it away, Sig!" He announces, motioning over to me as I just shake my head and roll my eyes.

"Loving the eye roll today," he laughs, slapping me on the shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. "What's with all the sass? Don't you know today is a day of _love_?" He fawns, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes again, wanting to avoid another dorky comment from him if possible.

Instead I just shrug, avoiding looking at him as I switch my gaze to the other side of the street, even if the view isn't exactly a very pretty one. The Peacekeeper station is right next to one of the poorest neighborhoods in the district, and we're walking right through it now, nothing in sight but grimy, dusty sheds and shacks. The few people who are walking fit one of two molds, either being a sketchy looking person, hoods covering their eyes and hands in their jacket pockets as they wearily scan their surroundings, or a gaunt, starving kid that's too tired to even beg for food anymore. For a moment I feel a twinge of guilt as I realize that the money in Theta's pocket right now could probably feed one of those kids for a few months, instead of being wasted on a silly little thing from one of the downtown shops.

Theta seems to realize what I'm thinking, and he wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in tightly towards him as I glumly rest my head on his side. "Don't feel bad about it Sig, there's nothing we can do for them. Even if they had money, it would just put a target on their back. You might as well just donate it straight to the criminals."

I frown at this, hating how pessimistic my brother is being, especially considering how much he constantly teases me and _loves_ to tell me to 'look the brighter side of things.'

Again Theta seems to read my thoughts(he's gotten pretty good at that), shaking his head bitterly and looking down to the ground. "I know what your thinking," he sighs. "I know."

He falls into silence after that, looking deep in thought as he looks glumly down to the ground. There's a sick feeling in my stomach from watching him be so sad, and I can't stand seeing him be so miserable about something that I made him think about. After a minute of thought, an idea pops into my head, and with one final dramatic eye roll that I hide from my brother's sight, I turn back to him with a slight smile, and begin to softly hum.

As soon as the first sound exits through my lips, Theta's head lifts from the ground, his eyes lazily glancing over to me as a small smile quivers onto his lips. I didn't know it was even possible for him to squeeze me tighter, but he manages to, clutching onto me as he stares ahead, something else hidden behind his eyes as they lightly water up, even as he quickly blinks it away. "Thanks Sigma," he says softly, biting onto his lip as he shakes his head. "You have no idea how much I needed that right now," he chokes out, bringing his fist up to his mouth and coughing, quickly wiping away his tears as he takes in a deep breath.

Now I'm even more worried, and I look up into his bright blue eyes, widening mine. He avoids my puppy eyes, though, sighing as he looks ahead, forcing a weak smile onto his lips. "Enough of that though, today is a happy day, alright?"

I nod my head, biting my lip as I look down at my shoes, kicking a pebble and trying to fight back the shaking in my hands as I squeeze onto Theta's hand with all my might. Taking in a deep breath, I look back up to my brother with wobbly lips and shaking legs.

"I love you," I whisper.

He pauses for a moment, the two of us both stopping walking as he glances down to me, a look of surprise in his eyes as I sheepishly shrink away from him. The look only lasts an instant though, and before I know it I'm being lifted off the ground, Theta wrapping me in a breath-taking hug as he buries his head in my shoulder, softly running a hand through my hair as he lets out ragged breaths, his chest pumping up and down. "I love you too," he chokes out through sniffles.

In response I just lightly wrap my hands around his neck, burying my head into his chest as he quietly murmurs into my ear, over and over again, "I love you too."

 **Levi Ezra, 17, District Five**

 **September 17th, Year 100**

 **West Oak Street, District Five**

The feel of the wind against my face as I stand up, arms stretched, is the greatest feeling of my entire life. The old pickup trick must be hitting thirty miles-per-hour right now, and I'm barely able to keep my balance in the flatbed, my sad attempts at dancing probably not helping my case. Sarah is keeled over in laughter at the back of the truck, while Sky cheers me on, barely holding in laughter herself as the wind blows back her bright blonde hair against her, covering her light brown eyes, a few strands making their way into her mouth as she spits them out through suppressed giggles.

Rickey revs up the engine, and I slide forward as he quickly accelerates, his booming laughter managing to be heard even with the wind in my ears. Sky stumbles to her feet to help me stay up, but instead just ends up tackling us both to the ground as we collapse in a heap just a few inches from Sarah, who is still unable to do anything but sit there and laugh.

She's lying on top of me, burying her head into my shoulder as she madly giggles, leaving me just barely holding in my own laughter as I attempt to keep a straight face and deadpan, "Wow, you sure move fast, I thought this was supposed to come _after_ homecoming."

Sky rolls off of me, socking me on the shoulder as she climbs up to her knees. "You say that as if you've ever gotten any," she loudly laughs.

"Levi still hasn't even had his first kiss yet!" Rickey shouts from the drivers seat, apparently having super-sonic hearing.

Shrugging, I climb back up to my feet, arms held out for balance as I wink at Sky. "First time for everything," I suggest with a wiggle of the eyebrows, causing Sarah to groan as Sky just covers her face and lies down on her back.

"Hey Levi!" Luxana shouts from the passenger seat, her head out the window as she waves to me. "Hit me up with some music, Rickey is boring me up here!"

"Wait, you sing?" Sky laughs. "How have I not heard about this yet?"

"I wouldn't call it singing!" Rickey jokes.

"You're just jealous of my talent!" I shout back.

"Levi's dad is a huge music buff," Sarah quickly explains to Sky.

"C _onnoisseur,_ " I correct her, earning a heavy eye roll.

"Yeah, well, Mr. connoisseur Ezra has like five-thousand of tapes worth of 'classic' music."

"Where do you think we get all that rocking music for our school dances?" I ask, still working on balancing myself despite Rickey's hectic driving.

"Well, don't just talk about it," Sky teases, slapping my ankle from her prone position. "Let's hear it."

"Prepare your ear-drums," I warn her with a raised eyebrow, deciding to just screw it on being careful and jumping up onto my feet, wobbling as I attempt to stay up, but continuing to walk away from the two, undeterred. " _Hands, touching hands,"_ I coo, reaching out to Sky, who looks to be barely avoiding cracking up in laughter as she reaches back, stretching out on her stomach towards me. " _Reaching out!"_ I shout even louder, ignoring the boos coming from Rickey. " _Touching me,"_ I bring a hand to my heart, and Sarah gags, fake vomiting over the edge of the truck. " _Touching you!"_ My voice is as loud as it goes, and I take Sky's hand, lifting her onto her feet as she lets out a yelp. " _Sweet! Caro-"_

Rickey suddenly slams on the brakes, and both of us collapse to the floor, Sky yet again on top of me as Sarah throws her shoe at me, her flats lightly thwacking me in the side of the head.

"Ow!" I mock surprise, unable to hold in my laughter. "That hurt!"

"My ears hurt!" She shoots back, and I roll my eyes and turn back to face Sky, who is laughing uncontrollably into my shirt.

"And _you,_ " I say to Sky. "Cannot get enough of me," I tell her, going for another eyebrow wiggle as she just continues to giggle, having to be peeled off of me by Sarah, who coos reassurances into her ear and runs a hand through her hair, only causing the fit of giggles to get worse, her face going red.

"Your singing killed her, Levi!" Rickey accuses.

"Try your driving!"

"My driving got us here!" He yells, all three of us sliding over to the other side of the flatbed as he takes a sharp turn, our school now in sight just ahead.

"Home, sweet Cornerstone Academy," Sarah fawns, still running a hand through Sky's hair as my date finally begins to calm down, her laughter just starting to die down.

"Man," I shake my head. "I'm so excited to see it, I think I might just jump out of the truck and start running to get there faster!"

"You won't," Sky tells me.

Flashing a smile and giving her a quick wink, I hop back up to my feet, and peer over the edge to make sure we're over grass, then turn my head towards Rickey. "Keep her steady!"

"You're an idiot!" He yells back in response, Luxana poking her head out the window and nodding at me in agreement.

"You're gonna die," Sarah laughs.

Throwing one leg over the edge, I look down at the quickly moving by grass and have second thoughts for a moment, but quickly erase them. No going back now, plus, it's only going twenty miles-per-hour, worst case scenario I twist an ankle or something. "If I die," I muster my most dramatic voice. "At least I die a total badass."

"You die a total dumbass!" Rickey shouts.

Flicking him off quickly, I don't allow myself a second thought as I throw my second leg over, sitting on the edge, then push myself off. I'm in the air for only a second, but by the time I hit the ground the truck is already far past me, skidding to a stop as I land with a thud on the ground, the momentum causing me to roll another few feet before I come to a stop, feeling not much pain but a hell of a lot of dizziness as I stumble up to my feet, loud laughter coming from the truck as Sarah and Sky hop off of the flatbed, while Rickey and Luxana run out from the front seats.

Feeling like I need to vomit, the world spinning and distorted, I throw my hands up in the air, take a step forward, then face-plant onto the ground. Sky is the first one to reach me, dropping to her knees and lifting my head up by the chin, her light brown eyes giving me a dumbfounded expression as she just shakes her head in disbelief. "You really are a complete idiot, you know that right?"

"It was pretty badass though, you gotta admit," I tease her, grabbing onto her arm for support as I hoist myself up, shaking my head and blinking a few times until I can see straight again.

Sky snorts, shaking her head as we walk towards the rest of the group, my arm slung over her shoulder. "Whatever you say Levi."

 **Sigma Krell, 9, District Five**

 **May 24th, Year 101**

 **Hendricks Elementary, District Five**

My eyes are on the clock as the time in the day slowly ticks away, just a few minutes away from the end of the school day. The rest of the class is bubbling up in excitement at the idea, but as much as I hate sitting in this desk, pretending to pay attention as I absently doodle in my notebook, I'd rather be here than anywhere else. Not as if that's saying much.

The teacher is frantically trying to hush the class as everybody chats and giggles, talking about what they're going to do once we get out for the three day weekend today. A few kids are quiet like me, but for them it's just nervousness about the reaping- something I couldn't care less about.

It takes another of our precious few minutes, but the teacher finally manages to quiet everyone down, and I continue to just focus my gaze on the clock, hoping that if I focus hard enough the quickly ticking by seconds will begin to move by slower. That used to always work whenever I _wanted_ to get out of here, after all, so why won't it just work right now?

No matter how much I try to force it otherwise though, the clock is soon just a single minute from the end of the day, and the teacher lets out a deep sigh before giving us all a defeated smile. "Alright, enjoy your three day weekend."

As soon as the words are out of her mouth everybody is out of their seats and rushing to the door, even the kids scared for the reaping not wasting any time to get out of here. I'm invisible to even the teacher as she quickly packs up her things, not even sparing me a passing glance.

A part of me wants to just rest my head on my desk and never leave here, just be alone and away from everybody else. But that can't happen, and before long my feet are moving on autopilot to their feet, my hands shakily grabbing onto my pen and notebook, clutching them closely to my chest as I hesitantly begin to walk out of the room. The teacher glances up at me for just a moment as I walk out the door, and I bow my head and keep on moving, quickly walking out of the classroom, into the halls, and out the school.

The official bell for the end of the day rings just as I step outside, and I pick up my pace at that, ignoring my giddy classmates as I continue to trudge forward, brushing past a few of them on the sidewalk. The walk home is a short one, and it only takes a minute for my home to be in sight at the end of the block, and as soon as I lay eyes on it, my pace slows down, nearly freezing in place as I move at a snail's pace.

The kids I walked past all overtake me again, giving me a few odd glances as they pass by. I'm not paying them any attention, though. No matter how slowly I move, my home gets closer and closer with every step, and a part of me wants to just stop moving altogether and never go home again. But there's nowhere else to go. Nobody to run away to.

That thought stings harder than I thought it could, and as I stand at the front steps of my house, I find my eyes drifting shut, fast breaths as I try to imagine myself somewhere else. Being anybody other than me, stuck here without the only person who's ever cared about me.

I hear the door get clicked unlocked, and my eyes quickly pop open, hopping up the steps and clutching my notebook to my chest even more tightly. A moment later the door swings open, and the hard-set gaze of my dad is there in its place, looking down at me with crossed arms, in his full Peacekeeper gear aside from the helmet. "You're late," he tells me sternly.

My eyes flicker to my feet, and I can feel his gaze bearing down on me as I ashamedly shrug.

"What, nothing to say for yourself?" He scoffs, mocking surprise.

A quick meep escapes from my throat as I nervously shake my head, eyes slipping closed as I will him to just walk away and let me in without anything else.

He stays silent for a long moment, before he lets out a sigh and grunts, "Not even worth it."

I stay frozen until I can hear his thudding footsteps pounding away, and I quickly slip past the doorway, carefully shutting the door behind me and hurriedly scurrying across the halls and to my room, head bowed and notebook hugged tightly to my chest, clutching onto it like a lifeline.

As soon as I step into my room, I hear my dad shouting, and I quickly close the door behind me, locking it and sliding down against the back of the door, landing on the ground with a quiet thud, the thin walls doing nothing to block out the shouting match going on just outside my door. There's the sound of cracking glass, and I let out a squeak, quickly scurrying over to my bed, jumping on and burying my head into the mattress, covering my head with a pillow.

The sounds outside are dulled just a tiny bit by it, but I clutch onto it anyways, shutting my eyes and willing the world around me to just disappear. For me to be transported to anywhere else in the entire universe but right here. In my mind I can be anyone, anywhere, doing anything- but no matter how much I cling to that idea, every time I'm forced to open my eyes and face the fact that none of it is real. That as much as I hate it, I can't just fly away from the world I'm stuck in. That I'm Sigma Krell- a mistake, with two parents that wishes she was never born, and with nobody that will ever care about her again.

No matter how much I wish that Theta were here right now, with a goofy smile and a dorky comment to cheer me up, he isn't. He never will be, and even if I close my eyes and try to pretend that he is, he _isn't._

Despite all of that, though, my eyes still stay closed, my head still in the clouds. Because no matter how pointless it is, how little it matters- pretending is so much better than facing real life.

 **Levi Ezra, 17, District Five**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **Cornerstone Academy, District Five**

People always love to say that you should live every day like it's your last. I've never really understood that line before. Why would you want to imagine that any day could ever be your last?

But the closer I've gotten to today, the more I've realized exactly what it really means. If today is going to be my last day on this earth, then I better make sure that I leave with no regrets, and go out with one hell of a bang.

It's kind of funny, really. For so long I had looked at this day and thought of all the wild, crazy things I would do. But instead of jumping off a fifty foot cliff into a tiny pond, or any of the other absurd fantasies I had, I'm here at school with my friends, this day feeling no different than any other. I guess that means that I have been living by that quote, whether I realized it or not. Or maybe the quote is just total BS. Not like I'm a philosopher or anything.

"Hey Levi," Luxana greets cautiously, her and Rickey awkwardly standing next to the table, food trays in one hand while they hold hands with their other.

The two have been like this all day, walking on eggshells around me, as if one wrong word will suddenly set me off or something. I don't know, I'm no psychologist or mind reader or anything either. "Sup," I reply as cheerily as possible, hoping that if I keep on showing that I'm not worried about this, that they'll stop worrying too.

It doesn't seem to make any impact on them though, both of them remaining silent as they take a seat across me. "Where's Sarah and Sky?" I ask through a mouthful of bread.

"Sarah stayed a few minutes late to ask Mr. Burris a few questions," Luxana quickly replies, the two still keeping their eyes wearily glued to me, avoiding their food.

"I'm jealous," I laugh, remembering far too well my time in his calculus class last year. "So what about Sky?"

"No clue," Luxana shrugs.

"She's coming from one of her junior level courses, right?" I ask, already knowing that she is(her Panem history course to be specific), but wanting to keep some level of conversation going here.

"Probably," she replies, absently poking at her pasta with her fork. "Isn't her only senior level course with you and Sarah?"

"Oh yeah," I snap, pretending to just now realize this. "Electricity and magnetism. . . I try to forget about that class as much as possible."

The two quirk half-smiles at me that quickly disappear, and we fall into an awkward silence as I quietly whistle, tapping my fingers against the table and scanning the rest of the room for Sky. Hopefully she'll be at least a bit less weird about this whole thing then everyone else has been. Even Sarah, who hasn't been serious about _anything_ since I've first known her, was acting all somber during statistics this morning.

After another minute of awkwardness, I decide that I'm not going to be able to take this any longer, and quickly shovel down the last of my bread roll and climb up to my feet. As soon as I do, Luxana and Rickey move to get out of their seats as well, and I hold up a hand to them, giving a reassuring smile. "Just going to the restroom real fast," I lie, the two quickly nodding and sitting back down in their seats.

I have to suppress the urge to roll my eyes as I move past them, the rest of the lunchroom just as quiet as Rickey and Luxana were, though for totally different reasons. The reapings always have everybody on edge, it's ridiculous we even have a half-day of school today. Normally though, our group are the few loud voices in the otherwise dead cafeteria- instead of being just another solemn group of kids worried about something completely out of their control.

There is one table with some commotion though, and I immediately hightail it over there, only quickening my pace to the opposite side of the room once I recognize them as the junior girls. By the time I'm at the table, it's more than clear that the commotion isn't just a few cheery kids ignoring the reaping, with a shouting match going on in the middle of a large circle of the girls.

"Just leave it alone, Emily."

"It's not worth it."

I push my way through to the center, getting a few odd looks in the process. As soon as I break through to the center my gut feeling is realized, Sky looking indignant as she stands with her arms crossed, attempting to glare at a very pissed off looking girl, but instead just looking sheepish more than anything else. The girl, who I quickly recognize as Emily, is having to be physically held back as she shouts out slurs at Sky- something incoherent that I don't even bother to attempt to piece together.

"Woah, woah," I chuckle, stepping in between the two and turning to Sky with an easy smile. "Don't worry about her, Sky."

"Oh, you can go fuck yourself too," she shoots at me venomously. "Why don't you just do all of us a favor and die," she mutters bitterly, smirking as if she came up with some clever insult.

Sky looks just about ready to rip the girls head off, and I have to grab onto her as she lurches forward at her, wildly swinging out her fists. "It's fine, Sky," I assure her calmly, my grip barely keeping her in place. "Just calm down."

"Calm down?!" She exclaims, turning towards me with exasperated disbelief, shoving me in the chest. "How can you say that, when-" she cuts off mid-sentence, tears welling up in her eyes as she finally just collapses into my shoulder, choking out sobs.

Most of the crowd has already dissipated, and I shuffle over a bit further away from the rest of them to get at least a bit of privacy as she continues to cry into my shirt. "What are you so sad about?" I ask in a soothing voice. "Today is just another day."

"That's not true and you know it," she chokes out in a muffled voice. "After today. . . it's just borrowed time."

I let out a short laugh at that, probably not helping matters but unable to stop it, shaking my head as I softly rub her back. "I've been living on borrowed time for a while now, nothing changes today."

She sniffles, backing up and dabbing at her eyes as she looks up at me with her wobbly, light brown eyes. "I can't lose you," she breaths out in a pained whisper.

Glancing past her, I see Luxana, Rickey, and Sarah are all grouped up, watching us from a distance. My eyes flicker up to meet their worried gaze for just a moment before I look back to Sky, flashing a carefree smile. "Well then, if today really is gonna be my last, let's stop wasting it and go have some fun, eh?"

She looks up at me with a dumbfounded look, a quick burst of laughter breaking through her tears as she lightly shakes her head. "Yeah," she murmurs softly. "That sounds nice."

 **Audra Lee, 16, District Five Mentor**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **The Town Center, District Five**

Sixteen is supposed to be an important age to reach. Once you reach it your supposed to be more mature, smarter, closer to becoming an adult. Instead I just feel the same as I did three years ago. Just as much of a clueless little kid who's expected to be able to handle all of these responsibilities when I feel even loss confident in myself than I did when I first got out of the Games.

Dad has been telling me that it's normal for me to not suddenly feel any different, that it's a slow, gradual thing, and I'll get there eventually. Caleb on the other hand told me that he still feels just as completely clueless as he did at sixteen- and that he's just gotten better at pretending he _does_ know what the heck he's talking about. He also told me that he's not the best role model in terms of maturity, but it isn't exactly like I have anyone else to turn to. And now I don't even have anyone to turn to at all.

I can feel the full weight of the entire districts gaze on me now that I'm seated in the lone victor's chair up on stage. The mayor still hasn't explained in his speech why it is that Caleb isn't here, and there seems to be a wave of confusion and worry throughout the crowd. While Caleb may be an alcoholic bum, he's been around since the restart of the Games, people have seen him up on this stage every single year and for him to disappear now. . . it just feels off.

He's always told me that alcohol was gonna be the death of him, and right now that isn't looking far off from the truth. The doctors said his kidneys failed on him, and that it's basically a toss up at this point whether he'll survive the next few weeks. I really wish I wasn't in the room to hear them say that. Having to mentor a quell by myself was already nerve wracking, and now I have to spend the whole time in the Capitol wondering whether or not Caleb will be here when I get back. . . .

I take in a deep breath, setting away those thoughts and forcing myself to focus on the present. Just take this thing one day at a time. For now all I have to worry about is who my tributes will be, and I can't do anything but hope that I don't get any young kids. After last year, I'm not sure I can handle that again.

The mayor's speech finishes up with no mention of Caleb, leaving the crowd murmuring in confusion as our escort comes out. I actually let out a slight sigh of relief as Aleksey steps out, glad to at the very least have him back again this year. At least one thing will stay normal.

I feel a bit bad for Aleksey as he hesitantly walks out to little applause and a heck of a lot of confusion, with his expression making it clear he thinks it's drawn towards him. Which to be fair, if it were his first year here it probably would be. He looks more than a little strange with his bright red hair falling beneath his shoulders, his tall, lanky frame, and tattooed on freckles. Even more odd than that though is his signature dress, wearing what he explained to me as some sort of bagpiper outfit, complete with a kilt and what looks like some sort of absurdly long scarf.

Not able to take the awkwardness anymore, I widen my smile and begin to loudly clap, hoping that the rest of the district joins along and makes things a bit easier on the poor guy. He told me last year how much he hates public speaking, and I really don't want to see him flounder out here.

Surprisingly enough the district nearly instantly follows my example, leaving me a bit confused, but overall just relieved that Aleksey no longer looks terribly nervous as he steps up to the podium with a slight smile. Caleb always did say that the rest of the district tends to look up to the victors, but I guess I've never really tested that out before.

"Thank you for the warm welcome," he starts. "It's my pleasure to be back here in District Five for my third year, and I look forward to meeting the two brave tributes that your district will surely produce."

Once he finishes his short speech, he doesn't waste anytime hustling over to the reaping bowl and reaching his long arms to the middle of the bowl, mixing his hand around for just a few moments before pulling out a slip and hastily walking back to the podium.

The whole district falls silent as I silently hope for a tribute that I won't get myself attached to. I can't handle losing someone like Armie again, especially now that Caleb won't be there for me afterwards. . . it sounds terrible but I just really hope that my tributes are unlikable jerks. It would make everything so much easier if the people going in aren't my friends.

"And your tribute for the Annual Hunger Games is. . . Sigma Krell!" Aleksey announces the name to an equally thick silence, nobody ready yet to start celebrating being safe from the Games for another year.

The name is unfamiliar, and I'm thankful for at least that, but I still hold my breath, anxiously waiting for Sigma to reveal herself, keeping my fingers crossed, willing her to exit from one of the front sections.

But as time passes by, and we reach a full minute since the announcement, still nobody has even begun to move, and a few confused murmurs begin to break out through the audience as Peacekeepers begin to converge on one of the back sections. My heart drops as they begin to search through the nine-year-old section, and I hang on to a tiny string of hope that they're searching the wrong section, that a twenty-two-year-old will step out of the section any moment now.

Instead, a Peacekeeper walks out into the aisle, lightly holding onto a tiny little girl's hand, gently guiding her forward as she dully gazes forward, clearly completely out of it, not even realizing what's going on. The image instantly reminds me of Armie, and I have to swallow a lump in my throat, forcing myself to keep my smile in place, to just keep my focus on my tribute.

The young girl is short, even for her age, looking too young to even be eight, much less nine. She has long, messy, dark brown hair and empty looking dark brown eyes. She's wearing tattered jeans and a dirty white t-shirt with a red heart in the middle. The Peacekeeper has to help her up on stage, and from there it's up to a very unsure looking Aleksey to help her out, awkwardly taking her hand and guiding her to the center of the stage, obviously looking like he has no idea what to do.

"Hello Sigma," Aleksey greets. "How are you doing?"

If Sigma even heard the question she doesn't show it, blankly staring out into nothingness.

Aleksey seems a bit thrown off by the lack of answer, seemingly unsure of what to do for a few moments as he glances between the mayor and I. He turns back to Sigma with a bit more confidence, offering an unconvincing smile as he tells her, "I'm afraid that now you'll have to choose who you'd like to be your partner in the Games, so go ahead and choose a person."

The mention of the Games seems to snap her back into things, fear instantly shining in her eyes as they widen, a strangled meep coming from her as her eyes dart around the crowd, swallowing a large lump in her throat and switching her gaze shyly down to her feet. Her breath is ragged, and she slams her eyes shut, Aleksey glancing over me with a look that screams 'help me.'

But the help he's looking for doesn't come from me. There's a loud commotion in the seventeen-year-old section, an inaudible screaming match going on for a moment before a boy breaks out into the aisle, an average looking guy with light brown hair slicked up and bright green eyes. Just as he breaks out another guy follows after, yelling something at him and attempting to hold him back before a few Peacekeepers are able to pry him off the boy.

Ripping free from the other guys grip, the first boy takes one more step forward, a hesitant look as he attempts to put on a brave face, shakily shouting out, "I volunteer!"

The shouting cuts off immediately, the district falling dead silent as Aleksey and I share surprised looks, before he turns towards the boy, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm afraid that volunteering _isn't_ permitted, though I applaud your-"

"Levi Ezra," he announces, looking much more confident now as he surely plasters an easy smile onto his lips. "Go ahead and pick my name," he breathes out, hiding the shaking in his hands by quickly stuffing them into his pockets.

Aleksey looks even more confused now, glancing over to the mayor and mouthing, 'Is that allowed,' with the mayor just shrugging in response.

"Well alright," Aleksey coughs, looking unsurely between Levi and Sigma, who looks completely frozen in shock, staring wide-eyed at Levi with just as much confusion as the rest of us are all feeling. "Do you, uh, want to choose Mr. Ezra as your partner?"

The terror returns in Sigma's eyes again as she quickly nods, hugging herself tightly and shutting her eyes.

Aleksey looks thoroughly out of it now, shaking his head as he shrugs. "I suppose that'll do," he sighs.

Levi stays frozen for just a moment, a girl from the sixteen's section screaming out his name causing him to glance back, no longer looking so sure of his decision. He quickly shakes it off though, taking in a deep breath, putting his smile back in place, and walking up with a swagger in his step, shaking Aleksey's hand as he helps Levi up.

Sigma glances at the boy wearily, shrinking back even as Levi offers a reassuring smile, thumbs stuck in his pockets as he glances between the young girl and the crowd, his own eyes shining with fear.

Looking at the two tributes myself, I can't help the sinking feeling of helplessness that I get. This is shaping up to be everything that I had hoped wouldn't happen. Sigma already reminds me so much of Armie that it hurts, and Levi may be older, but he isn't exactly the unlikable douche that I had hoped for. God, why did I have to get these two this year? If Caleb were here he would know what to do, what to tell them, how to help make sure that they have the best chances of coming home as possible. What in the world am I going to do? What am I even supposed to do?

"Well," Aleksey says into the microphone breathlessly. "I think we can safely say that this has been quite the exciting reaping. Panem, I present to you, Sigma Krell and Levi Ezra!"

* * *

 **A/N: And that marks the halfway point of our introductions! We've now met 6 of our 12 tributes! Special shout out to Lauren for the escort this chapter, and as a reminder: If you ever see any tributes you want your character to ally with then tell me in either your PM or review and I'll see if I can make it work.**

 **I know there's a good amount of unanswered questions that have been brought up, and I guarantee that they WILL be answered. Every tribute gets three more POVs after these intros during the pre-games, so we still have a lot left to be seen.**

 **So now that we're halfway through I'm also going to be opening up submissions for an idea I stole from Celtic, fanmail. Basically you submit a question for the tributes, mentors, and/or escorts and I do a post on the blog with all of them answering the question! Super easy, super fun, and I'll start posting all that once all the tributes have been introduced(as long as I have questions to answer).**

 **As always, thank you all for your amazing support, and I'll see y'all next time in District Six!**

 **Trivia(1 point): What major city is D5 located in?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite tribute out of the 6 we've seen so far?**


	6. D6: Band-Aids and Scars

_"Band-Aids and Scars"_

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this is late, these last few weeks I was working a 40 hr week and then moving into college and as a new freshman have had zilch free time for writing. I'll do my best to keep on updating regularly, but for the time being updates might move a bit slow.**

* * *

 _~She's got lions in her heart_

 _A fire in her soul_

 _He's got a beast in his belly_

 _That's so hard to control_

 _'Cause they've taken too much hits_

 _Taking blow by blow_

 _Now light a match, stand back, watch them explode~_

* * *

 **Clyde Kaniff, 14, District Six**

 **October 16th, Year 92**

 **Towpath Park, District Six**

To say that I'm nervous right now is an understatement. While sneaking away from home late at night is nothing to look twice at, the fact that Jane of all people was the one to ask me to meet her in the park at midnight is more than just a bit gut-wrenching. She's been the one person in my life who's been vocal about hating being around the district late at night, not willing to take the risk of talking a midnight stroll through the park. Yet at the end of a school day where she didn't so much as glance at me, she slipped me the slip of paper telling me to meet her at Towpath park at midnight.

The last nine hours have been spent nervously pacing my room, constantly checking the time, and ignoring all my other responsibilities to just focus on thinking about this. It feels like it's been weeks since I've talked to her, and even though I'd never admit it to anybody, I feel giddy just at the thought of seeing her again.

The two of us had been going steady for nearly two months, easily a record for me, until suddenly a few days ago she just started to completely ignore my existence. While that type of breakup is nothing new for me, something about it still felt off. Jane and I. . . there was something different there. It was at least a hell of a lot more serious than any of my other relationships, as little as that may be saying.

I quickly shuffle away those thoughts for now, bringing myself back out of my head. There's no point wondering about that kind of stuff, for now I just need to focus on what the hell Jane is so worried about. Or maybe she isn't worried. I don't know, again, no point just wandering around with my head in the clouds, especially not at freaking Towpath park during the middle of the night. I'd rather avoid getting mugged if at all possible.

The dim moonlight barely illuminates the park, just shadows of trees and the deep blue of the river visible in the darkness. Ahead of me is an open bit of field overlooking the river, and as soon as I step out through the trees I spot a figure standing at the edge of the short cliff, looking over the edge. Even in the darkness I immediately recognize the figure as Jane. I don't know how, but a part of me just instantly knows that it's her.

I think about calling out to her, but think better of it after a moments thought, and begin to walk over towards her, hands in my pockets and eyes wearily glancing around for anybody else that might be snooping on the two of us. Once I'm just ten feet away from Jane her body stiffens, and I pause, planting my feet in the ground, continuing to casually take in our surroundings.

"Hey Clyde," she says softly, still staring out at the river, arms crossed over her shoulders as she attempts to hide her shivers.

"Sup," I respond coolly.

She stays silent for a solid minute, and I begin to awkwardly shuffle, my movement instantly causing her to snap her body around, facing me with just barely visible watery eyes. "There's something you need to know," she breathes out shakily.

"I haven't heard from you in a while. What's going on?"

Jane doesn't seem to even hear me, nervously biting at her nails- something I've never seen her do before, not even when I made her skip class with me and she was literally shaking in fear and guilt the entire time. "Clyde. . . ." she chokes out, nervously twirling her hair around her finger.

"What?" I ask, trying to hide the worry that's starting to creep over me.

She chokes out a sob, covering her eyes with the palms of her hands and shaking her head furiously. "This can't be happening," she whispers to herself.

"What can't be happening?" I demand, my voice wobbling just a bit and losing the firmness I intended. What the hell is making her act so terrified? The only things that should be making a girl like her freak out so much would have to be something like a family member dying. Either that, or. . . .

"Clyde," she sniffles out, taking a deep breath and wiping the tears from eyes. "I'm pregnant."

The words don't even register in my head, going straight in one ear and out the other as I dully stare at her with wide eyes. The gears in my mind are turning, trying to make sense of what she just told me. But I'm just unable to accept those two words, shaking my head as I take in an exasperated breath. 'You can't be," I breathe out, pulling at my hair and taking a step back.

She doesn't respond, taking a step back herself and turning to the river, a shudder running through her body as she softly sobs.

"And I'm. . . ."

"Well, it couldn't be anyone else," she mutters bitterly, hugging her shoulders as she lightly kicks the dirt.

"But-" I pause for a moment, running a hand through my hair and pacing back and forth, eyes slammed shut as I attempt to make some semblance of sense from this. "That's not possible. I-I'm fourteen. You're fifteen!" I exclaim, expecting and hoping that any second now she'll reveal that this is all some elaborate prank. "Fifteen year olds don't get pregnant," I shakily spit out.

"Well this one did!" She bursts out at me, tears streaming down her cheeks as she spins around to glare at me, looking ready to lunge out and kill me, even through the shockwaves going off in her body as she jolts with each sob.

Everything is slowly starting to become more and more real, the fading hope of this being a lie, a prank, a mistake- all slowly simmering away. "What the hell are we gonna do," I choke out, stuffing my hands into my pockets and digging my nails into my palms, doing anything to possible to stop the shaking in them.

"What the hell am _I_ going to do?" She demands shakily, dragging her palms down her cheeks and continuing to shake her head in complete disbelief. "My mom and dad are gonna kick me out when they find out. Another year from now I'll probably just be another street corner crackhead with a bone-thin baby."

Nearly as soon as those words escape her mouth, a cracking thunder echoes out, a flash of lightning striking just a few hundred feet from us as we both jump at the noise, momentarily taken out of our worry. As soon as the thunder sounds, a drizzle of rain begins to fall, steadily speeding up and drenching Jane's long, blonde hair and causing it to stick to every side of her face, covering up her eyes as it plasters itself to her cheeks.

Seeing her like this, feeling and looking completely helpless, both tears and rain staining her cheeks, I feel a sudden burst of something that I haven't ever felt before, and I find myself taking a step towards her, hand held out tentatively. "You-you could stay with me," I offer up lightly, Jane's head shooting up as she gives me a surprised look. "I mean, it's the least I could do," I quickly add, forcing a slight smile onto my lips. "It's not like my place is very nice, you'd have to deal with my asshole friends too, there's a lot of alcohol around- I would do my best to get rid of it though, if you're pregnant I guess that would be bad to have around. . . I don't sleep much so you'd have to deal with me being awake in the middle of the night making noise-"

"Clyde," she breathes out exasperatedly, letting out a choked laughter as she offers me a tiny smile. "It-it's fine, th-thank you. Thank you so much."

"Of course," I reply automatically, not sure where these words are coming from but not finding it in me to mind much as I take one more step towards her.

She takes a step towards me, the downpour still on us but neither of us caring anymore, her shrugging sheepishly as she offers up a tentative smile. "M-maybe this won't be all bad," she says weakly, sounding as if she doesn't really believe herself as she says it, but trying to convince herself anyways.

"Maybe it won't," I tell her confidently, gripping onto her hand and giving it a light squeeze. "I'm sure you'll be a great mom," I offer with a reassuring smile.

She quietly laughs at that, averting her eyes to the ground, lightly squeezing my hand back. "Yeah," she trails off, looking in thought as she stares downwards, finally looking up at me with a much more lighthearted look. She gives me a smile, a real one, and asks me in a light voice, "What do you think we should name it?"

Glancing away from her eyes and up into the sky, an easy smile forms onto my lips, shrugging as the water bats against my face. "I think Rain would be pretty fitting."

Quietly giggling, Jane shakes her head, her eyes flirting back to the ground as she bites her lip.

"You like it?" I ask.

She looks up, her bright blue eyes lighting up as they gaze into mine, a dreamy look in them, not a single worry in the entire world as she stares back into my eyes.

"I love it," she whispers.

 **Rain Kaniff, 5, District Six**

 **May 25th, Year 98**

 **West Wayne Street Apartment Complex, District Six**

"And how is the birthday girl doing today?" Mom coos, crouching down and looking at me with a wide grin.

"Good," I reply sheepishly, hands held behind my back as I slowly rock forward and backwards.

"You have a birthday wish you wanna share?'

A shy smile slips onto my lips as I shake my head. "I can't tell you."

She snaps her fingers, still smiling as she quickly nods. "Of course, what was I thinking."

"I dunno," I shrug.

Mom giggles a bit at that, leaning in and quickly checking the rest of the room before whispering to me, "You wanna give me a hint?"

"If I tell you it won't come true!" I moan.

She laughs at that, holding up her hands defensively. "Sorry, sorry. I'll stop trying to squeeze it out of you." She ruffles a hand through my hair, and I squint my eyes, leaning back just a bit and making an odd face as my hair falls over my face awkwardly. "Have I ever told you that you have the cutest voice in the whole wide world?"

"Yeah," I sigh, rolling my eyes as she ruffles my hair even more, continuing to lightly giggle.

"There it is again," she laughs. "Where did you learn to speak like such a southern belle?"

"I dunno," I shrug again, bouncing on my toes and attempting to look over her shoulder, trying to sneak a peak on if dad has gotten back yet.

She glances back herself, bopping me on the nose as she turns around. "Daddy will be back with your present real soon, alright?"

Just as she says that, the door to our two-room apartment opens, dad with a wide smile on his lips as he holds something being his back. "How's my favorite girl in the entire world doing today?" He asks me loudly.

"Good," I drawl in response, barely able to stop myself from running and jumping into him.

"Awesome. So I didn't get _much_ time to wrap your present, but I did cover it up at least a little bit," he laughs, bringing out from behind his back a brown paper bag that he shakes once before holding out for me to grab.

As soon as he offers it up I'm blazing past mom, jumping up in the air and snatching the bag, setting it down on the ground while dad brings a hand to his head, dizzily plopping down onto the nearest chair, his smile wiped off his lips. My attention is drawn away from my present for a moment as I look between him and mom worriedly for a second, before mom offers me a smile and tells me, "Go ahead and open it up, honey."

I slowly nod my head, keeping an eye on the two in the corner of my eye as mom sits down next to dad, whispering a few things into his ear while he dully stares ahead at nothing, tilting his head slightly. Doing my best to ignore it, I focus on the bag in front of me, a slight smile appearing on my lips as I anxiously pop it open, blindly reaching my hand in for the most suspense possible.

Digging around in the bag, my fingers grip around a cold, metallic chain, and before I can give myself a chance to guess what it might be, I yank it out. As soon as I see what it is I would be squealing in joy, but I'm too shocked to even do anything but stare it at with a dumb grin and wide eyes.

"You got me the necklace," I whisper below my breath, running my fingers gently across the teal stone, in complete disbelief that dad actually remembered. It was just a necklace that I saw in a window when he was walking me to school a few months ago, how did he remember it? "Dad, thank you _so_ much," I drawl out giddily, bouncing in place as I turn around towards the two to show off the necklace. "Mom, look!"

When I turn around the smile disappears instantly, dropping off my tip toes and landing flat on my feet, the stone slipping between my fingers and hanging in the air, the chain wrapped around my wrist. Dad is acting scary, his head twitching as he murmurs to himself, snapping his head to his side every few seconds. Mom looks terrified, completely confused as she shakes his shoulder. "Clyde?" She asks worriedly. "Talk to me baby, what's wrong?"

He doesn't even seem to hear mom, continuing to stare at a blank space in the wall, his body tensing up as his eyes narrow further and further. His murmuring is slowly getting louder, but still making no sense, just a bunch of nonsense about leaving "us" alone, and a lot of threats and mean words.

"Dad?" I squeak out, clutching the stone in between my hands.

"You leave her alone," he shakily threatens, wobbly pointing a finger to the air to my left.

"Who are you talking to?" Mom sobs out, shaking his arm. "Clyde!" She yells into his ear. "Talk to me!"

Dad jumps up to his feet suddenly, mom jumping back as he glares down that spot. "I told you to leave her alone!" He screams, in one quick motion leaping towards me with a raised fist.

A scream finds its way out my throat, and I scamper backwards on all fours, collapsing to the floor and throwing my arms over my face as he throws a punch into midair just inches from me, tackling himself to the ground and repeatedly hitting the wooden floorboards.

"Clyde!" Mom yells, running over to him and grabbing onto his arms, attempting to pull him back.

He throws her off his back, head twitching as he jumbles out a bunch of odd sounds, slowly crawling back onto his feet, wiping the back of his hand against his cheek, ragged breath as his feral eyes dart around the room. "I won't let you hurt her," he chokes out in a broken voice, his hands shaky as he reaches into his pocket, the glimmer of a blade showing before I quickly cover my eyes, planting my head into the floor, a scared meep creeping out of my throat.

"Rain!" Mom worriedly yells, her voice shaky and not even trying to pretend to sound brave. "Go to your room and lock the door, _now_."

I poke my eyes through the cracks of my arms, and immediately regret it. Dad is wildly swinging a knife in the air, muttering the same incoherent words as before, not a single thing he's saying making any sense. Mom is still sitting on the chair, legs folded up and arms wrapped around her knees, tears in her eyes as her whole body shakes in fear, cowering away from dad.

"Mom-"

"NOW, Rain," she yells at me, and another meep chokes its way out of me as I scurry to my feet, scuttling over to my room, nudging my way through the door and slamming it shut behind me just as dad lets out another scream, repeating that same thing again, "Leave her alone!"

A second later mom lets out a pained scream, and I can't stop the one that escapes from me, a terrified, pleading scream choking its way out of my throat as I fall to the floor, hugging onto my knees as I bring them up to my chin, eyes closed, breathing heavy. There's another scream from mom, and not long after dad yells those words again, and I bring my hands away from my knees, plunging them against my ears, pressing against them with all my might, willing all the horrible noises to go away. Praying for me to wake up to mom and dad's happy faces, wishing me a happy birthday and assuring me that this was all some horrible nightmare.

Please, please, please, be a dream. Let me wake up in bed, and let me tell mom and dad all about my awful nightmare. Let them comfort me, and tell me that it was just a bad dream, and that everything is okay. Please, please, please.

Please.

 **Clyde Kaniff, 22, District Six**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **Sector 8 Correctional Treatment Facility, District Six**

Time seems to morph in a blank cell. Just a few days seem to drag on for an eternity, and when you amplify that to entire months? It's indescribable. Every single moment is spent waiting for the next moment to begin, a blank emptiness of time that manages to both go on forever, yet contain absolutely nothing when you look back at it once it's finally done.

Solitary is something that I can never get used to, never _want_ to get used to, and yet, I've learned to accept it as a part of my life. I don't even know what I'm really going to do once it no longer is. When you spend just a single hour out of every day outside of four blank walls, what do you do with the rest of that time once you get it back? What _did_ I do with all of that time?

It won't be too much longer that I'll have to wait, at least in broad terms of the word 'long.' I've spent just a few days short of three years in this hellhole, so what's one more year stuck in this place? It may feel like an eternity, but I've already survived three endless years, and I'll be damned if I don't make it past the last one with my mind intact. May twenty-fifth, year one-hundred and two. That's all that I have to make it to. Just three-hundred and sixty-five more days of hell, and I'll be free of this place. Eight thousand, seven hundred and sixty hours. Maybe enough time for me to work out in my head how many minutes that'll be.

I chuckle to myself, my head bowing forward as I laugh into my lap, my hands drumming along the hard cement floor. "That's a good one," I murmur to myself, though I quickly cringe once I realize I said the words aloud, sighing as my head falls back against the concrete wall.

This whole thing where I say things to myself needs to stop. Even if it's something innocent like that, they won't give a damn. The drug they gave me, it's an experimental one, and I'm human test subject number one. If I show absolutely _any_ signs that their miracle drug doesn't work as well as it's supposed to, then they'll label the whole project a fat failure, and tack back on those thirty years they subtracted from my sentence. One year? I can make it. Thirty-one? There's no way. They may have cured me, but I don't think my sanity would last very long if they took away that light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how many chemicals they pump me full of.

But as long as I have that little bit of hope, the thought of what's waiting for me outside these cold, grey walls. . . I can still make it. Not because I want to, but because I _need_ to. After everything that's happened, everything that I did. . . I need the chance to make it right again. I'll do anything for that opportunity.

There's a loud pounding on the metallic door, and I scamper to my feet, a wide smile on my lips as I quickly ruffle a hand through my hair and turn around to face away from the door, hands folded over the back of my head before the command leaves the wardens lips. The Peacekeepers rush into the room, roughly yanking my arms as they force the cuffs on with my hands held in front of me.

One of the three armor-clad men jabs me with the end of his rifle, and I force my smile to play in place as I quickly move forwards, physically biting my tongue to avoid any harsh words from slipping out. I made that mistake a lot earlier in my sentence, and I learned the hard way the consequences of talking back. I only get one hour of visiting time a week, so to ever lose it is awful, but today especially. . . I don't think I would ever forgive myself.

The walk through the rest of the prison isn't exactly scenic, the old, dark building practically crumbling down on itself. The halls are long and narrow, specifically designed to prevent any chances of an organized jail break from happening. Anybody stupid enough to try to break out would find themselves facing down a rifle from hundreds of feet away, with no other halls or closets to duck into and hide.

Thankfully the walk isn't too long, and in no time at all I'm being ushered into my chain-link box, forcefully dropped into the wooden stool, the but of the rifle dug into the back of my neck as they quickly undo my restraints and hurry out of the box, locking the door as I'm left brooding, drawing blood with how hard my teeth are digging into my tongue.

"Dad?"

My anger dissipates in an instant, my features softening as I turn away from the door and to the open visiting room outside of the chain-link box, immediately recognizing the voice I hear, the lilted drawl unmistakable for anybody else.

"Hi Rain," I say softly, hesitant as I slip a slight smile onto my lips, always worried that my little girl will look back at me with hateful eyes, tell me that she hates me, storm off for me to never see again.

But every single time my worries are never realized, her bright green eyes lighting up in excitement just like they always do, a small, easy smile appearing on her lips as she slides onto the stool across from me and just outside of the box. "You sure look happy," she jokes, keeping her eyes on my as she shifts something from her right hand to her left, fists clenched around something as she puts them below the table and out of my sight.

"Well today is a big day, isn't it?" I smile, pretending for now to not notice the item she seems keen to hide from me. "Eight years old now," I sigh, still in disbelief at the entire thing. It still seems like yesterday that she was just a tiny little peanut the size of my hand, and yet here we are, eight whole years old. . . .

Her cheeks go a touch pink as she sheepishly shrugs, waving me off with a groan. "I'm not _that_ old, dad."

"I dunno," I reply cheekily. "Before long you'll be an angsty teenager who's to cool for her old man."

"Ugh," she recoils back, seemingly disgusted at the mere idea. "Never."

I laugh at that, reaching out and placing my hands against the chain-link as I smile wistfully. "I sure hope not."

She smiles back, reaching up to place her hand against the fence, my fingers wrapping around hers. "I love you, dad," she tells me softly.

The words mean more to me than she could ever imagine, a smile seamlessly slipping onto my lips as I take a deep breath, not allowing any tears to water up in my eyes as I slowly nod my head. "I love you to," I choke out. "I love you so much."

 **Rain Kaniff, 8, District Six**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **Sector 8 Orphanage, District Six**

"Rain, where the heck were you?" Irelia calls out as I quietly slip into the entrance of the orphanage, trying and failing to not draw any attention as every head in the room snaps towards me.

"Where do you think?" I reply, giving my friend a dumb look as the gears in her head slowly turn, visibly connecting the dots before Nami walks up to her, giving her a hard hit on the shoulder.

"Happy birthday, Rain," she tells me cheerily, flashing a wide smile as Irelia rubs her shoulder, giving Nami puppy eyes.

A few of the other kids in the room also murmur out birthday wishes, even if most just stay quiet and brooding. I can't really blame them though, not with what day it is today.

"Thank you," I reply sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck as I walk over to my best friend duo, the two of them still in a match of shooting daggers at each other, wordlessly arguing. "Aw c'mon," I drawl out, shaking my head as I lightly hit Irelia on her other shoulder. "How in the world are you gonna say _Nami_ hurt you with a punch?"

Irelia opens her mouth to say something, then clamps it shut, murmuring something between clenched teeth. "Well, happy birthday anyways," she tells me after a few moments hesitation. "Not sure if turning eight today is really a good thing, but. . . ."

"Irelia!" Nami gasps, hitting her on the shoulder again, earning a pained yelp as she jumps away from her.

"It's okay," I wave off. "I ain't gonna get reaped."

"See?" Irelia exclaims. "She's more worried about having her crush on _Ryan_ get spilled out then she is of getting reaped."

"It's her birthday, Irelia, Jeez!"

I just roll my eyes and shrug. "Not like it's a big secret."

Nami giggles, raking her hair out of her eyes and flipping it backwards. "Yeah, I don't think I could ever forget, you just about _died_."

"You would too!" I laugh. "Imagining someone telling the entire country who your crush is on television!"

"And with your crush sitting right next to you," Irelia chimes in, causing my cheeks to flush at the memory, burying my face into my hands.

"Ugh!" I exclaim. "Just thinking about it makes me wanna die!"

"Why don't you stop complaining and ask him to be your boyfriend," Nami moans out. "He already knows you like him."

"Because," Irelia speaks up for me, this argument already being done a hundred times in the past year already between the two of them. "Am said that she liked him, and Ryan never said anything! If he liked her back he would've said something!"

"No he wouldn't! He's so shy, you know-"

I block out the rest of the conversation, shaking my head and suppressing the urge to eye roll as I glance away from the two and out towards the rest of the room. Most everyone is nervous about one thing or another, Brooke is even so scared that she's refusing to come out of our room, just like she did last year. Heck, the only person that doesn't look either scared like Brooke is, or pretending to not be by non-stop talking like Irelia and Nami are, is the one person that should be terrified right now. You'd think losing a friend, or definitely a sibling, to the games would make you more scared of them than before. But here the two of us are, the only people not bouncing on their toes in nervousness.

For a moment I think about dropping out of this conversation and going over to say hi to the older girl, but before I can get my feet to start moving I think twice about it. Ever since she arrived at the orphanage she's been shut-off(and for good reason with what happened to her), but ever since last years Games she got much worse. Part of me feels awful for her, knowing everything that the girl has gone through, but another part of me just feels confused. When she got here and the rumors started to spread about how her father had murdered her family. . . I don't know what I thought, I guess. I just didn't think that I would go this entire time without so much as speaking a word to her.

"Psst, Rain." My head snaps over to my pair of friends, expecting to get nagged at for zoning them out. Instead, the two have their eyes glued to the entrance of the orphanage, motioning their heads over towards it.

Once I follow their gaze, it doesn't take long to spot what immediately silenced the room, and I let out a heavy sigh as soon as I do, lightly hitting Irelia on the shoulder for taking me out of my daydreams and walking away.

"Where're you going?" She hisses.

"To grab some water, I'm thirsty," I reply back in a normal voice, not caring that I'm cutting through the dead silence of the air. The two visiting adult's eyes seem to be on me as I walk out the living room and into kitchen, pushing through the swinging doors and making my way straight to the sink.

I don't bother to grab a cup, turning on the faucet and tilting my head below the sink, sticking my tongue out to catch the steady stream of water. That's the position that I'm in when the door opens, and what the two strangers first see of me as the door slides shut behind them.

"Why hello there," the woman greets warmly.

After guzzling down a mouthful of water, I let out a satisfied sigh, drop down from the stepping stool, and wipe the water off of my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt. Giving the two adults a cheery smile, I wave to the two. "Hello."

The woman smiles at me. "Why, don't you have the cutest little accent."

"Thank you m'am," I reply shyly, sticking my thumbs in my pockets and rocking back and forth on my heels. She continues to widely smile at me, even nudging the man and whispering something in his ear.

"M'am," I interrupt quickly. "If you're looking to adopt then there's plenty of real nice kids in here, I can show you some of them if you want."

The woman's smile falters for a second as she crouches down closer to the floor. "And what about you?" She asks sweetly.

I shake my head. "You seem real nice, m'am, but my dad is coming back for me real soon."

Her eyes flicker with something for a moment, and from the knowing look she gives the man I can tell she doesn't believe me when I say that. "And. . . where is he now?" She asks cautiously.

My cheeks flush a bit at that, and I repress the memories that pop up, visibly flinching as I shake those thoughts out of my head. "Right next door," I murmur under my breath.

The woman looks confused for a moment, before the man whispers something into her ear quickly, causing her to gasp and bring a hand to her mouth. "Oh, you poor little thing!"

"It's okay," I say quietly, putting a smile back up on my lips as I beam up at them. "Everybody makes mistakes."

 **Atlas Hall, 38, District Six Mentor**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **The Town Center, District Six**

In all my years of mentoring I have never had a feeling of complete helplessness.

There's always been something that I could do. Some glimmer of hope that this year will finally be the year, or tiny little sliver of belief that this pair wouldn't break my heart just like every single other one has. But after 22 long years of mentoring, when I look out into the crowd today, I don't feel a single thing. There's no optimistic hope for a victor, no uneasy nervousness that I'll get a tribute that's destined to send me into a spiraling depression of drunkenness for the next few months.

Instead, I look out blankly to the cowering masses of huddled children, all clutching onto each other for support, bravely attempting to fight back tears as our mayor's empty words fill the air. The speech is just as meaningless as any other, a load of nonsense about the purpose of the Games, but every single child in the crowd seems to cling to the words, hoping for his speech to never end.

In my numbed state, even the choked out sobs periodically rising from the eight-year-old section falling upon uncaring ears. It's a complete emptiness that even bottles of liquor couldn't bring me to, and while the pain is still all too fresh from last year, a part of me wonders if last year's Games were for the best. After all, it's like a band-aid, isn't it? I could endure an endless stream of hurt for the entirety of my life, or I could just go through that one hellish year and completely numb myself to anything every hurting me again. After all, how can I feel sorry for any of my tributes when Amara's image is still planted into my memory, her last words still ringing through my head at every moment of every day.

Every single person in the audience must think I've gotten myself drugged up, because I don't even notice when the mayor's speech ends and the escort makes her way on stage. The woman is new, a girl in her young twenties with neon green hair streaking down her back and ghostly pale skin. She's wearing an absurdly revealing outfit, a short black dress that shows off so much skin that in any normal year I'd be feeling worry for her being one of the infamous escorts that go after their tributes.

But that worry is nonexistent now, and I continue to blankly stare ahead as the girl introduces herself as Katherine Magnifique, earning a few chuckles of nervous laughter from the district, not so much being surprised by the ridiculous last name, but more so just attempting to do anything possible to temper the fear in them, proving to themselves that they aren't scared.

Katherine seems displeased by the reaction to her name, frowning as she taps the microphone with her fingernail, a loud scratching sound that burns the eardrums, earning a loud moan of displeasure from the audience. "My apologies," she smiles in a posh accent. "It is my _humblest pleasure_ to be in District Six here today," she says, still with that knowingly fake smile plastered onto her lips as she looks down at the crowd with disgust, scrunching up her nose as she turns towards the bowls of names.

"You all know the rules of this reaping. One tribute shall be reaped, then must choose a tribute to join them in the Games. There will be no volunteers." The words are just a memorized speech, quickly spat out before she moves on to the words that she wants to say, leaning into the mic and giving what I assume is supposed to be a seductive smile as she suggestively bites her lip. "Here's to hoping for an excellent young pair of tributes this year."

With those parting remarks she turns and struts towards the bowls, swaying her hips with an almost comedic level of force, bending over much more than she needs to to reach into the bowl, fishing her hand in just a few inches before running out of arm length and just yanking out a slip.

She seems to bounce with excitement as she makes her way back to the podium, eyeing up the front rows of the pens and giving a few winks. Once she makes her way back to the mic, the flirtatious behavior finally stops, as she quickly unfolds the slip, her excited look being almost immediately replaced by disappointment as she lets out a soft sigh under her breath. "Will Rain Kaniff please come up to the stage?"

My heart stops beating, my body completely freezing as the worst possible feeling in the world floats around inside me. Recognition. I know that name.

Somebody else in the crowd seems to as well, as there's a large struggle in the front row near the bright orange flashes of prison jumpsuits, Peacekeepers quickly making their way over to stabilize the situation.

As that commotion draws everyone's attention, nobody seems to notice the young girl step out of the eight-year-old section, a brave look shining in her eyes as she smiles weakly up towards the stage, eyes darting around as she searches for someone. It isn't until those bright green eyes meet with mine that I realize where that name came from, the connection immediately being made.

It's as soon as I realize this that a man in a jumpsuit makes his way out from the twenty-two-year-old section, desperately running towards the girl as Peacekeepers follow behind him, the man barely able to even waddle with the handcuffs around his ankles and wrists.

"Rain!" The man yells, and as soon as he does any confidence or brevity is wiped away from the girl, her knees going weak as she freezes in place, staring at the man in shock.

"Dad. . ." she chokes out, dashing over to the man and wrapping her arms around his leg, burying her head into his side as her body shudders with sobs.

If it weren't for the dead silence in the square I would cuss out this stupid fucking world, bang my fists against the ground and ask god why he won't just let me be. Ask why in the hell he won't just let me forget about what happened last year and move on. I was grasping so god damn hard for a silver lining from last year, and I thought that I had finally found it.

Of all people to reap, why did it have to be her? Why the one person in the entire world that would remind me of her. . . .

Back in the aisle the Peacekeepers have caught up to Rain's father, and the Peacekeepers don't take any caution with him, tackling him to the ground roughly, Rain jumping back and bringing her hands up to her face as she fights tooth and nail to keep any tears from spilling.

"Well, isn't this dramatic?" Katherine giggles, and as much as I fight the feeling, I find my fists clenching anger at the woman, a sudden wave of protection falling over the girl who's life is now in my hands. "Would you kindly come up to the stage, Rain?"

With those words Rain continues to walk up the stage, moving backwards as she keeps her eyes on her father, who is still fighting on the ground to stay free of the Peacekeepers grasp, showing a surprising amount of resiliency. But the one who I'm truly impressed by is Rain, her eyes still dry as she puts a soft smile back onto her lips, turning and walking up the steps with only a slight shake in her legs.

"Hello, m'am," she wobbly drawls out in a thick accent, my eyebrow raising at her southern sounding voice.

Katherine seems to notice the same thing, looking down at the girl with surprise. "Well, I didn't realize I was in District Ten," she comments dully.

"Sorry, m'am, my voice gets kinda funny when I get nervous," she laughs humorlessly, eyes flirting back over to her father, who suddenly breaks free from the Peacekeepers for just a moment.

He uses that one moment, getting onto his knees and yelling out, "Pick my name!"

Though he's tackled down to the ground and restrained a moment later, Rain seems to fully understand what he's asking, covering her mouth as an ugly sound comes up from her throat, shaking her head as her eyes slam shut.

As she does this, Katherine narrows her eyes at the girl, looking as if she is just now realizing something for the first time, her eyes widening in shock a moment later. She brings the mic up immediately after, a shit-eating grin as she looks into the camera proudly. "For those of you with short memories, young Rain here is not making her first appearance on Capitol television."

Rain peeks up at the woman confusedly, her eyes darting between Katherine and her dad nervously, looking thoroughly terrified as her breath reaches a mile a minute.

"Rain was a close friend of the late Amara Ekkal of last years Games, and even made a _heartbreaking_ appearance in the final eight interviews."

As soon as the words leave Katherine's lips, Rain actually seems to calm down, subtly letting out her breath as she lets her eyes close shut again, forcefully pushing them down. "Clyde Kaniff," she chokes out.

I didn't realize it was possible for Katherine to get more excited, giddily waving towards the peacekeepers, motioning them over to the stage. The guards look confused, but the command from the escort seems enough to override any worry they have, three of them keeping a firm grip on Clyde as they drag him up on stage, tears welling up in the man's eyes as Rain buries her eyes in her hands, facing away from the district.

The rest of the reaping goes by in a hazy blur for me, Clyde being brought up, dragged into the goodbye room while he calls out for his daughter, while Rain continues to just barely manage to fight back tears. By the time it's all over, I immediately make my way backstage, anger and pain and every other negative emotion bubbling up in me as I stalk over to the nearest drywall, throwing every inch of strength into a my fist as I wail into the wall, ignoring the burning pain as I crack through the exterior, pulling it back and letting out a muted scream as I hit it again and again, until a crimson red spills from my knuckles and drips to the floor.

* * *

 **A/N: So, yeah. This is basically one of the main reasons why Amara died in Role Model(Aside from some other stuff that we'll be getting to later with Glory, but hey, spoilers). I'm already hating myself for creating these two, and really starting to question if I might be a sadist with the way I treat my characters. Why can't I just let ONE of them be happy? Probably because I'm an asshole.**

 **PS: First fanmail is up on my blog! Go check it out if you haven't already!**

 **Trivia(3 points): This one is really tough, which is why it's worth so many points, but at the end of Rain's first POV I referenced/alluded to a scene from Role Model. Which scene/moment/POV was this?**

 **Trivia(1 point): When was Clyde going to be let out of prison?**


	7. D12: You Before Me and Me Before You

_"You Before Me and Me Before You"_

* * *

 **A/N: Here's our final complete district, and second to last intro chapter, where we will head off to District Twelve to meet Ephraim Kress and Blaze Colton!**

 **Warning: Especially vulgar language in Blaze's POVs. Also I wrote Ephraim's 2nd POV late Friday night after a party, so. . . it may have come out a bit goofy, because. . . reasons. . .** **sorry bout that. I know I at least had fun writing it though lol.**

* * *

 _~I would do anything for you_

 _I always will put you before me_

 _You before me_

 _And everything I'll ask of you_

 _I always will put you before me_

 _You before me~_

* * *

 **Ephraim Kress, 16, District Twelve**

 **January 22nd, Year 101**

 **2 Jones Street, District Twelve**

It's been six months as of today. An entire half of a year spent with one person should feel like a whole lifetime for somebody my age, yet it seems as if that entire time has flown by in the blink of an eye. Yet at the same time I still can't shake the comfortable feeling of normalcy I get every time Alita wraps her arm around my waist, cuddling her head into my shoulder as we calmly watch the fire slowly burn in front of us. I can't help but forget what life was like before her, and I have a hard time ever imagining life without her.

I've had girlfriends before- not many, but some- and none of them came close to the feeling I get whenever I'm around Alita. While I hate to act like some love-sick, naive teenager who thinks he's found his one true love, well. . . that's sort of how I feel.

Her seam grey eyes warmly flicker over to me, the steady crackle of the fireplace twinkling in her eyes as they widely look into my eyes, a dull grey in comparison to her's. My wavy brown hair is a complete mess, while her light brown hair carefully falls down her neck and drapes over her shoulders, not a single strand out of place even as she lays her head on my broad shoulders.

"What are you thinking about?" She asks softly, nearly in a whisper, not wanting to interrupt this perfectly calm moment.

"How beautiful you are," I reply honestly, even though she scoffs and rolls her eyes at the answer.

"You're so corny," she teases me in a murmur, going back to watching the burning fire.

"It's true," I laugh lightly, avoiding the sudden temptation to shrug, not wanting to disrupt the perfect image that Alita is, her eyes drooping nearly shut, as she contently sighs, legs crossed on the floor and toes curling as a goofy smile slips onto her lips.

"Well, thanks," she giggles, leaning into my shoulder more heavily.

"What, no compliment for how _dashing_ I'm looking right now?" I joke, earning an 'are you kidding me right now' side glance from Alita.

"You look alright," she tells me, cheekily sticking out her tongue before nuzzling back into a comfortable position leaned against me and letting her eyes slide shut.

"I look _fantastic_ ," I tell her in a macho voice, taking my left arm and slicking a hand through my hair.

"Whatever gets you to sleep tonight," she murmurs under her breath, barely failing to deadpan as a smile creeps onto her lips for just a split-second.

"I think _your_ head on _my_ shoulder will get _you_ to sleep tonight."

"What can I say? You make a good pillow."

"I make a lot more good than that," I tell her, returning to my macho voice.

"Yeah, you can be really funny sometimes too," she teases me, bopping my nose as she lets out a soft "pop," sound and giggles.

"Well, you know what they say. When it comes to making jokes, some people are good at it, and _some_ people aren't."

"I can think of a few," she yawns.

"I can think of one in this house right now," I murmur under my breath, coughing her name in as indiscreet way as possible.

"Aww, you really shouldn't be so harsh on your dad, he at least tries to be funny, unlike _some_ people."

I raise an eyebrow at her, and she just rolls her eyes and slaps me on the chest lightly. "Don't worry," she waves off. "It's not like I have much room to talk about funny parents," she mutters with a knowing glance.

Quirking a reassuring half smile, I throw my arm around her shoulder and squeeze tightly, kissing her gently on the forehead. "Don't think about them right now, let's just enjoy tonight, okay?"

She smiles back at me, letting her eyes droop shut as she wraps her arm around me, pulling back lightly as her head goes back to gently resting on my shoulders. A minute passes like that, a warm feeling enveloping us in the silence, the crackling of the fire the only sound and movement in the room except for the steady rise and fall of her chest, and light intakes and exhales of breath.

I'm perfectly content, willing to sit like that for the entire night, wide awake but perfectly happy with a night that doesn't seem to have a possibility of getting better. But then, just like she always manages to do, Alita manages to surpass any of my expectations.

"I love you."

The words fall out of her lips readily, breathed out as she quivers a sure smile, her eyes not even opening as she only slightly tightens her grip on me, pulling me just a tiny bit closer for those three words.

For someone like me, those words shouldn't be a small thing. They should be a massive obstacle, a towering mountain that takes me preparation and grit and a few buckets worth of sweat to choke out. But when I look down on her small figure, her easy smile, her face that can't be described in any way other than beautiful, the words spill out without a second though.

"I love you too."

Her smile brightens just a tiny bit, mine widening as well into a content grin, feeling as if the entire world of worries has just been lifted off my back, not a thing mattering except for her body curled up next to mine, listening to the pops and cracks of fire, watching the dim flame continue to burn for the rest of the night.

 **Blaze Colton, 21, District Twelve**

 **May 4th, Year 101**

 **Blue Ridge Public School, District Twelve**

You learn real fast in life who you care about, and who you don't. Those that you do care about you fight tooth and nail to keep safe, and if somebody who you don't care about is ever harming somebody close to you, then why should you hold back against them? Especially when that first list of names has been thinned down to low enough to count off on my left hand.

My left hand: which currently has a nasty cut running across it from finger tip to wrist. An ugly scar that will stay with me the rest of my life, but one that I'll never regret having. Those few people that you care about, you have to protect them, even if that means putting their safety before yours. After all, if you aren't willing to sacrifice your own well being for somebody, can you truly say that you care about them?

A smattering of just a few adults are all gathered into small groups, mindlessly chatting to pass the time as they wait for the kids to get out of school. Most parents in this hellhole aren't willing to sacrifice any time for their kids, much less wait for them just to see them a few minutes earlier, and I can't help but gain a smidgen of respect for the people here who clearly give a damn about their children. I like to hope that my parents would do the same for June if I weren't around to be here for my little sis.

The sky is as gloomy as ever, the thick smog coating the entire world in a dull grey, coal seeming to be sprinkled evenly throughout the earth, even here at the school miles away from the nearest mine. Most people get used to the coal dust that veils our district in a sad grayness, but I don't think I ever can. That's one thing that June and I will always agree on, and regardless of how much it sucks to be constantly brought down by the world that you'll live in for the entirety of your life, I'm still happy that June and I feel the way we do. Better to be aware of the awfulness of your life and cling to some sort of hope for a better life, then to sulk into a life of resigned normalcy. As June always likes to say, keep your head in the clouds and maybe one day you'll finally be able to see them. I always loved that saying. . . who would've thought a ten-year-old could say the most uplifting thought I've heard in my life?

The old school bell dully rings off, rattling around loosely, seemingly on its last hinges. Nearly as soon as it goes off, the front exit to the small school in which half the district is stuffed into opens, kids filing out, packed shoulder to shoulder as they all attempt to squeeze through the slim doorways. Between the taller high schoolers and the hundreds of other kids, I just barely manage to spot June's currently unmissable light pink hair bobbing its way through the crowd.

My fists clench tightly as the color of her hair has my blood boiling at the memory of how she got it, the bulging veins in my left hand more promptly showing off the scar which just further triggers the memory of the ordeal. How kids can be so terrible never fails to amaze me, and I still feel myself slightly surprised I was able to stop myself from flat out murdering the sons of bitches who thought that it would be funny to pick on a little girl eight years their prior. Their excuse that it was just a 'final year prank' and that they didn't choose anybody at specific to do it to, and just snuck the un-washable dye into the first hat they saw- didn't do anything to calm me down.

It doesn't matter though, those three scrawny little assholes got what they deserved, and the scars lining my back and running down my hand from the whipping that came afterwards are well worth it. I'll gladly trade an eye for an eye with anybody that messes with June, and I think it's safe to say based on their black eyes and timid expressions every time that I've seen them since then, that I got the better end of that trade.

I'm now able to fully see June, her smile still firmly in place despite the odd looks she's getting, holding her winter hat over her head, tugging back and forth on the ear muffs attached to them, swinging the hat as her head bounces from side to side, skipping giddily towards me as her bright blue eyes light up the moment they spot me.

Just as she begins to speed up, she bumps into the back of one of the older boys, tumbling to the ground and falling on her rear as the boy turns around confusedly, his friends also stopping with him, a pretty looking girl and three idiotic looking dudes checking to see why their friend stopped walking with them.

But as the boy turns around and spots June on the ground, dusting off her pants and her cheeks flushing in embarrassment, he doesn't extend an arm to help her up, instead breaking out in laughter, not even attempting to hide how funny he finds June's hair as he turns to say something to his friends.

I don't hear what he says, but whatever it is, it causes him to begin to laugh even louder, his friends all chuckling along with him while June's cheeks flush an even deeper red as she self-consciously attempts to cover up the bright pink.

The boy says something to June, then begins to turn to his friends, but never sees anything except for my fist.

I'm still running as I throw the punch, and it barely manages to connect with his jaw, but the strength behind it and his surprise is enough to send him stumbling backwards, barely staying on his feet as he looks up at me with a look of complete confusion, holding a hand to his cheek as his friends all rush over towards him.

I'm not letting him get off that easily though, the blood boiling in me to the point where I'm seeing red, the world around me almost muting as the sounds all morph into one inaudible blend. Before he can fully recover, I'm already charging at him again, grabbing onto his shirt and picking the heavy boy just an inch into the air before tossing him backwards onto the dirt ground, dust flying up as he roughly collides against the floor.

He grunts as he slowly lifts his head up off of the ground, still looking thoroughly confused and not at all annoyed or angry even, something that just makes me even get more pissed off. Does he not even know what he was doing wrong? He thinks that there's nothing wrong with making fun of little kids?

I begin to stomp towards him again, but stop dead in my tracks as I feel a pair of warm arms wrap around my leg, June's wide eyes bearing up at me when I look down, as she rests her head against my leg, clutching on tightly and refusing to let go. "It's okay, Blaze," she murmurs quietly in a pleading voice.

Looking down into her watery puppy eyes, I find my anger dissipating in an instant, nodding and quirking a soft smile to her, not even sparing the asshole another glance. "Alright," I grunt, reaching down my arms and picking her up, throwing her legs around my shoulders as she lets out a giggly scream at how high she is, wobbling just a bit as I hold tightly onto her feet.

The first few steps away are a bit difficult, but soon I find a rhythm despite the unevenness of having her on my shoulders. Once we exit the thick crowd of students anxious to leave school, June seems to ease up, relaxing as she slumps down and rests her chin on the top of my head. "I love you, Blaze," she whispers tiredly.

A genuine smile slips onto my lips. "I love you too, kiddo."

 **Ephraim Kress, 17, District Twelve**

 **May 4th, Year 101**

 **Blue Ridge Public School, District Twelve**

While I don't exactly dislike school, there's nothing more relieving than the sound of that old bell chiming off at the end of a grueling lecture on Hunger Games history that begins to drag on just a bit too long, my patience just starting to thin. Hanging out with friends? Meeting new people? Awesome. But having to sit through hour after hour of dull lessons from teachers who seem just as eager as us to just get the heck out of here the moment the clock hits three o'clock? Not my cup of tea.

So once that bell finally does go off, I'm the one leading the charge out of our classroom door, Alita matching my pace and hanging by my side, grabbing onto my hand as our hands swing wildly while we rush through the halls. Just a bit behind us Boone and the only person to ever enjoy one of Miss Barry's lectures- Wendall, struggle to keep up. As we walk through the hallways, Boone's brother Asa comes out of his classroom and falls into line with us, chatting animatedly with Boone while Wendall silently listens.

Alita and I have gotten to the point where neither of us even needs to speak to one another, perfectly content with just holding onto each other as we walk through the halls, bright smiles on both of our lips as we shove our way through the mass of humanity blocking the lone exit. Even through the loud chatter of the school, I manage to overhear a bit of Boone and Asa's conversation, the two taking turns interrupting each other to argue over who's classes are more boring.

Alita just squeezes my hand, glancing over at me and rolling her eyes as we turn a corner, cramming our way through the doors to leave the school. I almost take in a deep breath of fresh air, nearly forgetting the fact that the air out here is probably less fresh than it was inside, the smog being particularly bad today, even the blue in the sky invisible when I look up.

"At least there's a bit of sunlight," Alita cheerily comments, always the one to look for any bit of positivity. Hell, with her home, I would be looking for any shred of happiness I can find too. She's admitted to me she does as much.

The two of us both stop in the middle of the fast moving crowd for just a moment to look up to the sky, but it's long enough for somebody to bump into me, as I feel a light impact against my leg, and faintly hear somebody crumpling to the ground.

I don't have to turn around to know it must be one of the elementary schoolers, probably with their head in the clouds and not paying any attention to where they're walking. But hey, not like I can blame them, wasn't like I was very grounded when I was that age either.

But when I do turn around, while I may not be surprised to see a little girl who can't be older than ten lying on her rear end, looking completely embarrassed, I am more than a bit bemused to see the bright pink hair that her hat is doing a bad job of covering. That half-done attempt to hide the ridiculous looking hair, combined with the fact that the bright pink her cheeks are turning nearly match the color of her hair, make me unable to hold in the laughter that rises up from me.

In another moment a joke pops into my head, and without a second thought to it, I turn to Alita and voice it out loud. "I don't think that brightness you saw was the sun," I tell her, causing myself to laugh harder as Alita rolls her eyes, attempting to hold in a giggle that barely escapes her, while Boone and Asa don't both laugh along just as loudly as I am.

When I turn back to the girl on the floor, her cheeks have turned a full blown deep shade of red, and she avoids my eye contact as she pulls her hat more tightly over her hair. The smile immediately drops from my lips, and I feel a pang of guilt as I awkwardly look down at the girl, mentally cursing myself. I guess I forgot how self-conscious girls can be about that kind of stuff, damn.

I'm about to go to help the girl up, but after hearing Asa and Boone's laughter continue to echo out loudly, I turn to tell them to cut it out. As soon as my head turns though, I'm met with a rough impact on the lower half of my jaw, and I'm seeing stars as I dizzily stumble backwards, barely staying on my feet as I attempt to balance myself out while the gears in my head start turning, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

It doesn't take long for the answer to come, as I bring my hand to my cheek, the blurriness fading from my vision just in time to make out a very pissed off looking guy charging at me, picking me up by the shirt, lifting me a full inch of the ground before tossing me backwards.

I land roughly, letting out a groan of pain as a shot of pain hits the back of my head. The world is spinning again, and this time it takes what feels like a full minute for things to return to normal, and as I manage to wobbly lift my head up off of the ground, I see the boy stomping towards me, a feral look in his eyes as his fists stand clenched at his sides.

While I know that I should probably be feeling fear right now, for some reason all that I can muster up in me is a feeling of intense confusion, and I can't tell if it's because I landed on my head bad and have a concussion right now, or if it's just about what the hell is even happening right now. I just made a joke, and out of nowhere I'm getting attacked by a dude? Was it really that bad of a joke? I mean, I get pre-teen girls can be self-conscious and all. . . but damn.

I'm not exactly in a position to voice any of my confusions at the moment, the boy stalking closer and closer to me by the second, as I've not even begun to try to scamper to my feet or scuttle away, still frozen in shock as I lie with my head lifted up, eyeing the boy bemusedly. Running would be the smart thing to do now, right? So why am I just laying here? I totally have a concussion, don't I?

But despite my lack of self-preservation, somebody else comes in to keep me from getting my skull caved in, the pink-haired girl attaching herself to the boy's leg and looking up at him with pleading eyes, murmuring something that just blends into a distorted sound for me. Yup, I totally have a concussion. At least now I've figured out the humor-to-head injury ratio for future use, because while brain injury sucks and all, that was still one hell of a joke.

I blink a few times, shaking that thought from my head and forcing myself to focus on the present. Why the hell aren't I feeling bad right now? I just brought a little girl to the verge of tears and I'm still talking to myself in my head and cracking jokes to myself. God, my head is all sorts of fucked of right now.

My eyes shut for a long second, and I widely open them back up, forcing myself to manually blink, still lying on the ground and watching the scene unravel in front of me, the pink-haired girl getting a piggy back ride from the older boy as they walk away. Well, thanks little girl for keeping me from getting my head caved in. Would've been nice to stop the concussion, but I appreciate it anyways. . . .

"Damn it," I murmur to myself in a slurred voice. "I'm doing it again."

I get onto all fours, and thrust myself up to my feet, taking one big step before flopping back onto the ground face-first, Alita shrieking my name and running to my side as soon as I hit the dirt. Through the distorted sound, I manage to hear her calling my name, and I let out a groan of affirmation, waving a hand in the air as I keep my face in the dirt.

"I'm okay," I wobbly slur.

"God damn," I manage to make out the voice of Asa. "What the hell was that dude's problem?"

Even in my half-conscious state, I'm still able to shake my head, my nose rubbing against the ground as dirt smears my face. "No, tha-t was my fa-ul-t," I get the words out in pieces, jumbling up the words to the point I'm not even sure if anything I say is audible, but the silence I receive is hopefully enough confirmation that they heard me. "I. . . wa-as being a jack. . ." I pause for moment to think of the word I'm looking for, then add, ". . . ass."

"Oh god Ephraim," Alita's voice comes out worried and in a state of panic. "We gotta get you to the apothecary."

She loops her body under my right arm, and I feel someone else grabbing my left as the two hoist me into the air, and I look over at Alita to see her light grey eyes shining with worry, a few strands of her beautiful light brown hair in her mouth as she looks at me as if I were a ghost. Who knows, maybe I am? If I were a ghost could they still see me. . . or touch me? I dunno, I'll have to ask her if I'm a ghost. . . .

Before I get the chance to ask, we begin to slowly move forward, Alita staring into my eyes intently, holding my eyelids open whenever they attempt to droop. "You are such an idiot, Ephraim," she sighs.

I just giggle a bit, eyes glazing over as they stare back at her, even in her panicked state and with her face being so blurry I can barely see it, still looking like the most beautiful girl in the entire world. "Heh," I snort, bobbing my head. "Yea-ah."

 **Blaze Colton, 21, District Twelve**

 **May 24th, 101**

 **Blue Ridge Public School, District Twelve**

Whenever the reaping begins to approach the district always starts to clear up a bit. The smog is gradually reduced to the point where visibility is attainable by the time the Capitol sees the town square tomorrow, and it almost seems as if the coal dust begins to thin from the air, no longer lining your throat with every breath you take.

While the clouds are still all grey, the sun a dull orange that barely cuts through the thick smog, for the first time in a while- the sky is blue. That bright baby blue that the sky is always colored in picture books, only missing the white, fluffy clouds to be as picturesque as any painting can be.

It's this image that I'm surrounded by that sets the tone for the afternoon, a light feeling in me that I don't often feel as I wait for June to get out of class, having to stay late to talk with her teacher. Nobody else is around at this point, and I'm glad for that, left in peace to just stand with my hands in the pocket and look up in the sky.

My head is brought out of the clouds by the clicking of the doors, swinging open and falling shut a moment later as my eyes drift over to the exit to see June grinning wildly as she skips towards me. The pink in her hair has just begun to fade, now just an odd mixture of her strawberry blonde and neon pink that blends into something that can not quite be described as orange. Hopefully it doesn't stay like this long, and is a sign of the dye begin to come out- but either way June doesn't seem to mind, looking carefree as ever.

"Hi, Blaze!" She greets me cheerily, bounding over to me, raggedy backpack slung over her shoulder as she waves at me.

"How was school?" I ask her as she drops her bag and hands it off to me.

"Good!" She replies enthusiastically. "We don't have to have school tomorrow, but my teacher wants me to do a special writing assignment over the weekend."

"Sounds fun," I laugh, lugging the bag over my back and taking her hand as the two of us begin to casually walk home, taking our time down the dirt road, not terribly anxious to hurry. "What's it going to be on?"

She shifts at the question, looking a bit uncomfortable as she kicks a loose rock that we pass by. "I'm supposed to write a summary of all of the reapings. Apparently it's some national competition. Every district chooses one elementary schooler to write one, and the best out of the twelve gets to visit the capitol for some writing program."

"Best in the entire district, huh?" I nudge her on the shoulder, giving her a smile. "Mom and dad'll be proud of you, that's awesome. My little sister, visiting the capitol."

She rolls her eyes. "I'm not gonna get chosen, the only reason I was picked for this was because the fifth grader they chose didn't want to do it. And besides, it's not like I have a ton of competition."

"Still, what? Sixty fifth graders? Another sixty fourth graders? To be chosen out of that is still impressive, don't undersell yourself."

She just shrugs her shoulders, something else clearly on her mind as she avoids my reassuring gaze, eyes on the dirt road as she kicks her heel against the ground with every step. "I don't even want to write it, though."

"What? Don't tell me you don't want to go to the Capitol." I stop walking for a moment, looking in both directions to make sure nobody is around before telling her, "I may not exactly be a fan of them, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy going there for anything that wasn't the Hunger Games."

"It's not that," she sighs, rolling her shoulders and sticking her hands in her pockets as she walks forward, forcing me to quickly hustle up to catch back up to her.

"Then what is it?" I ask, stepping ahead of her and walking backwards, raising an eyebrow at her.

She speeds up and brushes past me, then stops walking, pausing ahead of me and averting her eyes to the ground as she kicks the dirt. "I don't wanna have to write about the reapings. It just. . . feels wrong to be excited about watching and writing about them. I mean, there's kids younger than me that might get reaped. . ."

"No matter what you do twenty-four kids are going into the Games, June," I attempt to reassure her, giving her space and staying behind her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "If all those people are going to have this awful thing happen to them, there might as well be at least one little girl that gets to have something good happen because of them."

"But what if somebody I know gets reaped?" She asks exasperatedly. "It's not exactly that unlikely, I probably know at least a fourth of the kids."

I give her shoulder a squeeze, smiling at her even if she can't see it. "Well, then I bet they more than anyone would want somebody that they know to get something good out of their loss."

"Would they really?" She asks shakily, sounding not so believing of me. "What if it was me that got reaped? Would you want to even _think_ about anything happy?"

"Well, you don't have to worry about that, because you won't get reaped."

"And if I did?" She asks me, turning around and giving me a look that tells me that "you won't" isn't going to be an answer she'll take.

"Then I wouldn't let them take you," I tell her honestly. "I would fight every last Peacekeeper in this entire district if I had to, but I can guarantee you they would never get to take you away from me."

This manages to crack a hint of a smile from her, looking down to the ground sheepishly as she clicks her feet together. The smile quickly disappears though, and she looks back up to me, now looking dead serious. "And if you got reaped? Would you want me to be happy about that?"

"I don't care what happens to me," I say, taking her hand and squeezing it tight, staring her dead in the eye to get through to her that what I'm telling her aren't just empty words. That this is really all that matters to me. "All that I care about. . . is that you can be happy. No matter what happens to me, if the end result is making you just a bit happier, a little bit better off in life, then I'll be just as happy as you darn well should be."

She continues to stare into my eyes even after I'm done speaking, seeming to be looking for one shred of dishonesty, just a little hint that what I said isn't completely true. But the longer she scrutinizes me, the more she seems to realize how much I meant what I said. And while her eyes were begin to look glassy before, now they've begun to water up, a cracked smile on her lips as she suddenly buries her head into my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"Thank you," she murmurs to me. "You're the best brother in the world." She pulls back from me and wipes her eyes, giggling through the tears as she looks up at me. "I don't care how many other people say that, because every other kid that tells their brother that is wrong."

The words bring an easy smile to my lips and a warm feeling in my heart, meaning more than anything else anybody else could every say. Because everything I said to her really is true, and looking down at her right now only just fuels that thought further. Nobody else in the world matters but her. It's _always_ her before me, me before everyone else.

No matter what.

 **Tristan Bay, 28, District Twelve Mentor**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **The Town Center, District Twelve**

Another year, another half-hearted attempt to reason with myself that this year can be different. That was the argument I made with myself this morning, staring tiredly into my mirror after a night of no sleep. It's also the same tug and pull I'll undoubtedly go through in the next week, when reason and tempered expectations are thrown out the window, traded out for a thin veil of hope that I force myself to uphold. Even when my tributes fight with each other, anger Careers, form worthless alliances, and put themselves in unsalvageable positions- it's always my job to keep believing.

Scanning the dead, tired, defeated crowd in front of me, I find myself struggling to find that piece of hope that I always manage to find. It seems every year I have to dig deeper inside me to find it, and right now. . . it's hard to find the energy in me to even care enough to put in the effort. No matter how much I try to force myself to believe that having hope will help, my results make it hard to think that hard work really does equal results in the Games.

After all, some of the most recent victors have come from the least likely places. Glory's mentor basically verbally abused her while he was around, and Caleb slept through Audra's bloodbath, sure she would die there and not wanting to have to witness it. Maybe my belief really doesn't matter, and I'll just have to come to terms with that fact. I've already lost enough kids that I fought tooth and nail to get home, so what more can I really be asked to do?

It really is no wonder that all of District Twelve's victors have turned into bumbling alcoholics with life expectancies in the forties. Well, all two of them anyways. At bare minimum I can hopefully at least break that streak. As much as I love Caleb to death, I've always warned him that his problem with alcohol is toxic for both him and his tributes, and it looks like that's starting to finally come back to bite him. As awful as it sounds, he can at least be a lesson to the younger victors to stay away from drugs to cope. God knows they need as many reasons to stay sober as possible, with how many there are to pick up the bottle.

In my years of mentoring, I've begun to master half-listening to the mayor's same old speech, and am able to quickly pull myself out of my thoughts as he finishes in a timely manner, turning it over to our beloved escort. Well, loved by me anyways. People in District Twelve tend to not have any extra room in their hearts for anybody, much less a Capitolite. She's kept me sane in my years of mentoring though, so she'll always have a loud round of applause from me, even as the rest of the district barely manages to eek out a decibel of noise.

But Rose isn't much of one to care about, or expect, praise, and she quickly walks out to the podium with a somber expression, having the general courtesy to not be happy while sentencing children to death. She's wearing her signature all (rose) pink outfit, from her hair, to her dress, and down to her heels- all the same exact shade of her namesake.

"Welcome, District Twelve, I am proud to be here here as your escort for my tenth year, equaling the tenure of our lovely victor Tristan Bay."

The crowd manages to eek out a scattered applause for this, mostly coming from children below reaping age, their heads still filled with Capitol propaganda that paints me as the savior of our district, believing this fairy-tale character of me being a glorious hero. A kind, motherly figure that should be an inspiration for every man, woman, and child in our district that so desperately needs role models.

That image dissipates pretty fast once they get old enough to watch the reruns of my Games.

There are no accidental victors.

Once the applause dies down, Rose wastes no time to quickly run through the rules, and calmly proclaim that she will be reaping our first tribute. Even with the genders combined, and the ages expanded, the bowl is almost comically small, little more than one thousand children eligible to be reaped. Compare that to the near half-million number of District Six, and it's no surprise why none of our tributes ever steal the limelight. There's not enough of us for anyone to give a damn. Hell, there's more pet dogs in Panem than there are citizens in our district- we're the minority to end all minorities.

I again pull myself out of my bitter thoughts, focusing on Rose intently as she carefully reaches into the bowl, pulling out a slip from the very center- just as she always does. Once she's satisfied that she's found the true middle, she plucks the paper out, not paying the bowl another glance as she quickly walks over to the podium, just as anxious to get this god-awful ceremony over with as the rest of us are.

Her voice is clear as she loudly announces into the microphone, "Blaze Colton."

The response is immediate, a high-pitched scream rising from one of the back sections, clearly not belonging to Blaze- a fact that's only further confirmed when a girl emerges from the ten-year-old section, dull pink hair all but covering up her light blue eyes that are alight with fear.

As soon as she breaks out into the aisles, a handsome young man emerges from the twenty-ones, not even looking back as he begins to hesitantly walk towards the stage, giving some very worrying looks towards every Peacekeeper that he sees. Thankfully they mustered up some reserve troops to fill in the gaps for the reapings, or else I have no doubt he'd be making a break for it right now.

But while he might not be running away, the girl with pink hair is running towards him, tears in her eyes as she shouts out his name, Blaze turning around just in time to see her collide with him, clinging onto his waist and refusing to let go, even as he hurriedly whispers to her, attempting to lightly peel her off of him while tears begin to collect in his eyes as well.

It's at that moment that I find that nugget of hope, a spark that maybe this really can be the one. He's undoubtedly going to be popular in the Capitol, he looks to have the physical attributes to win, and it's clear to me as he tearfully has to pull his little sister off of him that he has motivation. The only flare of worry I feel comes from when a Peacekeeper comes to restrain the girl, who refuses to leave Blaze- and the boy immediately tenses up, looking fully ready to lash out.

As soon as that scare comes though, it's gone. His anger simmers down, and he un-clenches his fist, looking in pain as he slowly turns away from his sister, forcing his way up the stage in long, slow, but sure steps.

By the time he turns back to the crowd, on stage and standing tall next to Rose, his sister has resigned to her fate, her body limp as the Peacekeeper practically carries the girl back to her section, the heels of her feet dragging against the cement the only sound in the otherwise silent district, a harsh, high-pitched sound that causes goosebumps to prickle on my skin, a shiver running through my spine.

Rose, as calm as she usually is able to be, looks a bit out of sorts from the whole situation, clearing her throat and silently seeming lost in thought for a moment, holding the microphone inches from her mouth even as no words spill out. It only takes a few moments for her to maintain her composure, and as soon as she does she's quickly speaking into the microphone, eyes darting between the boy and the crowd.

"Well, it's a pleasure to have you Blaze Colton, I assume the lovely young girl we just saw was your sister?" She asks the question lightly, and I let out an audible breath when she doesn't attempt to make a joke about the pink hair. The Capitol will be frowning at the missed pun opportunity, but there are more important things in life than entertainment- or popularity, in Rose's case.

Blaze seems to notice the lack of mention as well, easing up just a bit as he slowly nods, keeping his eyes locked on the microphone, seeming to fight against scanning the crowd for his sister. "Yeah."

"She seems to care for you very much," Rose offers warmly.

He doesn't respond to this, continuing to just barely succeed in fighting back tears as he blankly stares ahead, and Rose almost looks in pain as she is forced to move away from the short interview, and to the inevitable question that she must ask the shocked boy.

"Well, Blaze, I'm afraid that now you will have to be choosing your partner in the Games." She says the words as gently as possible, and I again breath a sigh of relief as she doesn't attempt to hype up the moment at all, again ignoring the entertainment value of the viewers back home. District Twelve may have its down sides, but ironically enough, escorts tend to not be one of them.

Despite her carefulness, the impact doesn't seem at all lessened on Blaze, his eyes alighting with rage as he turns his gaze to the crowd. Rose flinches back, but then quickly leans back in as she realizes in sync with me that his anger isn't directed towards being forced to make that decision. His gaze isn't a nervous one, guiltily attempting to reason with himself that there's someone that deserves to be chosen. This boy is deciding between people that he _wants_ to be forced into the Games.

That realization unnerves me just a bit, dampening my excitement over the boy as I exchange a worried look with Rose. We may have been expecting for tributes who disliked each other, but you always like to hope for the best. . .

Rose doesn't seem keen to interrupt the boys harsh judgement, waiting silently for a solid minute through a tense silence as he continues to stare daggers through a multitude of sections. Finally, his gaze rests in one place in particular, locking there for a long moment before turning away, his anger turning to bitterness as he faces Rose, his eyes still burning with fury as he mutters, "A seventeen-year-old, Ephraim."

The fact that he doesn't even know the last name of the person he's sentencing to almost definite death again sends a negative energy through my veins, my hope still firmly in place, but my burning optimism dimming just a bit, now just a dull flame that I'm barely clinging to.

The boy who steps out of into the aisle does nothing to illuminate that light, a harmless looking young man emerging with an expression that crosses between shock, confusion, and regret. Why he would be feeling any of those feelings right now only furthers my uneasy curiosity over these two's history, especially as Ephraim refuses to look either Rose, myself, or Blaze in the eye as he quickly walks up the steps.

Once he reaches the stage, a single loud sob escapes from his section, and Ephraim seems to pause as it does, his eyes peeling back to meet someone else's before quickly looking back up stage, now locking his eyes with Rose as he walks to her side, being careful to keep his distance from Blaze.

Rose seems to sense the fearful tension on stage just as well as everybody else in this district undoubtedly does, and being careful to keep her body firmly in-between the two boys, brings the mic up to her lips. "District Twelve, your tributes, Blaze Colton and Ephraim Kress!"

* * *

 **A/N: So, on top of writing that 2nd Ephraim POV, I also made a late night shot at some fanmail and bonus scenes. So on my blog is 2 new fanmails, and three just-for-fun scenes where our 12 tributes play paranoia, and then never have I ever, followed by another game of paranoia(written at a different-but equally fuzzy time]. So have fun with those beautiful trainwrecks lol.**

 **Also, in case your curious about that whole concussion thing, I meant to touch on that during the reapings, but the POV was starting to get long and I needed to wrap it up. So more on that during his goodbyes(which those will be done en masse in just 3 chapters, so not too long). Honestly, if you have anything that you think is a loose-end I forgot to tie, it's (probably) just me saving it for the 3 or 4 more POV's I'm going to be writing for them. I need to save at least a few of my big reveals :P**

 **See you guys, hopefully next week, in D10/D3! And in the meantime be sure to be on the lookout for more bonus scenes and fanmail(which you guys should all TOTALLY send in, like, IDC how "stupid" or "silly" the question is, I think we've already hit max stupidity with my antics a few nights ago lol).**

 **Trivia: Last time the 3-point answer was not correctly answered by anybody sadly(didn't really expect anyone to lol, that one was tough AF). The correct answer was: the last paragraph was a near word for word copy of Amara's death POV. Look at me, making allusions and poetic connections. I'm starting to feel like my old AP lit teacher.**

 **(1 point) So this story has now had a total of 5 tributes in relationships, with a few more lovey-dovey ships in the future. When did I get so sappy? Anyways, lol, because of that we've also had 5 love scenes/POV's(Merrium, McKenna, Levi, Clyde, and now Ephraim). Out of all of these which one has been your favorite?**

 **(1 point) Now that we've seen all of the _pairings_ between our POV tributes, which district pairing has been your favorite so far? The more mysterious reasoning in D1? The very blunt reason here in D12? The bittersweet selections in D5 and D6? Lemme know your thoughts!**

 **(1 point) Normally don't do 3 trivia questions, but since I put all that stuff on the blog I have a question (semi) related to that stuff: Who do you ship so far? Can be tributes, mentors, escorts, side-characters, your own tribute which hasn't been introduced yet. . . anybody that you like. Go wild. Bonus points(1 per) if you predict a ship that'll actually happen(I have a few planned out, because Turtzreal has made me soft and in a shippy mood)**


	8. D3,10: Hidden Bruises and Shallow Smiles

_"Hidden Bruises and Shallow Smiles"_

* * *

 **A/N: Fun fact about how schools work in D3: Instead of elementary, middle, and high school- they have Tier 1, 2, and 3 school. It's still the same amount of grades and all, it's just that age has nothing to do with it, instead the only thing mattering being your intelligence. For example, an 11 year old could easily be anywhere from tier 1 to tier 3. So yeah, that's a thing. Just putting that out there so you aren't confused about wtf "tier 2 school" means, or why Cyril is in a school with kids of all sorts of ages when he should still be in 6th grade.**

 **Warning: Some really dark themes this chapter, including some pretty dark lines of thinking and graphic displays of abuse.**

* * *

 _~Somebody cries in the middle_

 _Of the night_

 _The neighbors hear, but they turn_

 _Out the lights_

 _A fragile soul caught in the hands_

 _Of fate_

 _When morning comes_

 _It'll be too late~_

* * *

 **Picaboo "Peeka" Benner, 17, District Ten**

 **July 27th, Year 99**

 **100 Pineview Street, District Ten**

As I stand outside of the Larenz ranch, foot tapping nervously against the creaky wooden floorboards- to say that I'm anxious is an understatement. It's been a whole two days since I've seen Deke, and every single moment of those two days has been spent heart-achingly wandering around my home, mother having to chastise me to not bite my nails ever other minute. It isn't ladylike to bite my nails, and if Deke were to see me with chewed nails. . . no, it's good that mother scolded me. She always knows best.

But now, just a half hour ago a servant knocked on our front door, telling me that my presence has been requested. He didn't say anything else, but I just _know_ that it was Deke. Who else could it be? I'm too giddy still to knock on the door, shakily bringing my hands up to my hair, tucking it under my cowgirl hat as I steel myself up to see Deke again. Last time he said he had a surprise for me- he's always so thoughtful like that- and my head is filled with all the grandiose things he could have in store for me. But whatever it is, I'm just happy to be here with _Deke_ again. Nobody else will ever love me like Deke does, he's so sweet, and caring, and. . .

While I'm lost in my daydreams, imagining Deke's smiling lips, his warm smile- I barely notice the door swinging open, jumping up as soon as I do.

"Why hello there," Roone greets me, and I let out a breath of relief that it wasn't Deke that saw me so startled. The next time I see him I have to look _perfect_.

"Hello, Roone, is Deke here?" I ask sweetly. I don't want to be dismissive of Roone, he's real nice and all, but my heart is aching from how long it's been since I've seen Deke, and I don't think I can wait another moment to be with him.

He smiles casually at this, nodding his head. "Of course, big bro wouldn't send for you and then leave, would he? I'll go tell him you're here."

I quickly nod my head, flashing a smile. "Thank you," I quickly call after him as he disappears back into their ranch, not wanting to sound rude or ungrateful. He really is a nice boy, and I've been on the lookout for a good girl for him for a while now.

All of those thoughts vanish from my head the instant that Deke steps out into the doorway. My heart leaps the moment I see him, his sly grin and casual demeanor as he leans against the wall, tipping his hat in my direction as I just about sway, bringing a hand up to my heart.

"Hello Boo," he says in his charming voice, his brown eyes scanning over me as I quickly bring my hand down, holding my hands together in front of me, staying steady on my feet as I bend my knees just a little bit, smiling sheepishly at him.

"Hi Deke," the words come out quietly, and I nearly melt from the warmth of his smile that he returns towards me.

Deke kicks off from the frame, clapping his hands together louder and giving me a mischievous grin. "I got a surprise for you," he tells me, barely containing the excitement in his voice as he hops down the step and lands down next to me, cupping my chin with his hand, lifting my head up as he looks to lean in for a kiss for a moment, my eyes closing in expectation, only for the warm touch to never come.

When I open my eyes back up, I see his deep brown eyes staring at me, barely blinking as if he's memorizing the very moment in front of him. Once he notices my eyes open, he drops his hand, flashing me a carefree smile as he motions me towards the fields in between our two ranches. "Come on," he tells me, grabbing onto my hand and practically running forward, my small legs barely able to keep up, leaving me grateful I chose to wear boots instead of heels.

I squeal as he leads us into a mud patch, but he doesn't seem to even notice it, romping through it, his jeans staining as I lift my skirt up, barely able to keep myself from falling over as he continues to tug me forward, the mud just barely missing my bright white skirt, but still managing to splotch over my leg and boots. "Deke!" I exclaim, my voice cracked up with giggles, not wanting to ruin the mood by telling him to slow down, but still not wanting to look anything other than perfect for Deke right now.

He stops, still with that same giddy smile on his lips, rubbing his hands together before placing them on my shoulders, looking my dead in the eye, his smile dropping for just a moment as he adopts a serious expression. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course," I laugh instantly, causing his smile to reappear.

"Alright, then let's go," he says, and with that he has my hand again, tugging me forward as I give up on attempting to save my skirt, running after him through the grass and mud, giggling the entire time while his smile gets wider and wider as we approach an open field, one that in an instant reminds me of my childhood. Of me and Deke running through these same mudlands, out into this same open field, playing pretend for hours, until we both collapsed onto the grass, not a care in the world but the two of us having fun.

I remember getting home, and both of our sets of parents being positive we were "destined for each other." And I remember the two of us having the same reaction as every little kid who's told they and their friend will ever be anything but just friends- disgust and disbelief. But as we clomp out of the mud and step out into that same open area that we spent so much of our childhood in, I feel a bright burst of thankfulness at just how right our parents were. Where in the world would I be right now, if I wasn't right here, with Deke's hand in mine. Who else out there could there ever be for me?

Once we hit the grass, Deke drops my hand, and just for the fun of it I find myself spinning in circles, still madly giggling, while he just watches with a smile from a few feet away, stepping forward and steadying me when I'm about to fall, the world spinning as I stumble in every direction. He let's out an exasperated laugh, and for a moment it's like we really are just kids again, the two of us just completely carefree.

But then as soon as that starts it ends, a serious look falling over his face as he raises an eyebrow suggestively, holding out a hand. Doing my best to suppress a giggle, I daintily hold out a hand for him to take, allowing him to quaintly lead me over to the near-center of the field, when he suddenly drops my hand, continuing to stare out into the distance, a jitter running through his body as he jumps in place quickly, before turning towards me, still with an unreadable expression.

"Peeka. . . my boo," he takes my hand and smiles, and I smile too, always loving his cute nickname that he's adopted for me. "Without you I'm nothing. You make me happy whenever I'm feeling down, you're always there for me when I need you, and really. . . I need you." I place a hand over my heart, my smile wobbling as I slowly nod my head, attempting to keep tears out my eyes as I piece together where he's going with this. "I could say this a million different ways, but really the only way that truly describes it is that I love you." He takes in a deep breath, and I nearly gasp as he drops down onto one knee, hand reaching into his pocket. "Picaboo Benner, will you marry me?"

He looks almost scared, eyes shining up at me with hope and anxiousness, and I make sure to waste no time with my answer, my heart breaking to see him feeling that way. "Yes!" The words come out easily, and I find myself flinging into his arms, him laughing in relief as he pulls me in tight, squeezing me so hard that I can't breathe. But I don't say anything, not wanting to ruin this moment, not wanting to end this long string of perfection, not wanting Deke to see me as anything less than perfect, and not wanting him to think of himself as any less.

When he finally pulls back I take in a deep breath, disguising it with laughter as I look into his twinkling eyes. And this time when he leans in, and my eyes drift shut, I feel his lips pressed against mine, a comfortable warmth falling over every inch as my body slumps downwards, never wanting this moment to end- sure that this feeling will _never_ go away.

 **Cyril Lovelace, 11, District Three**

 **January 2nd, Year 101**

 **A.B. Miller Tier Two School, District Three**

Lunch used to be my least favorite part of the day. It would be thirty long minutes, tray in hand as I awkwardly wander around the cafeteria. Everywhere I would go, people would avoid my gaze, squeezing in their chairs to block out any open space, tossing bags and books on chairs to 'save' them. Usually I would just end up sitting below the staircase, eyes glued to the clock as I hope for the time to quickly pass by.

Now lunch is one of the only parts of school that I can say I like. Not because of the food, the grey-colored mashed potatoes and boiled celery sticks not exactly appetizing, but because of the people that I get to see. I already have algebra and Panem history with Endian, but this is the one time I get to talk with Peri and Firefly. They may not be my best friends like Endian is, but it's still nice to have somebody to talk to, especially Firefly.

But today, when I walk up to our set table near the staircase, a slight skip in my step, nobody is there. While Peri and Firefly being late isn't anything strange- the two getting hot lunch too, Endian packs his own lunch- and gets let out of class a few minutes early in order to get here before the rush of students.

I do my best to mask my anxiety, not wanting to be worried on a day like today, sliding into my seat and quietly sitting, absently beginning to softly chew on my fingers, needing something to take my mind off wondering where Endian is. With my free hand, I twiddle the stick of celery between my fingers, not feeling in the mood to eat and just desperate for something to happen.

Thankfully, I get my wish before I manage to gnaw through my finger- a teacher's aide walking up to me and handing me a note before quickly walking away. It takes until my initial surprise wears off to recognize her as Miss Hash's assistant.

I don't even have to open the note to know what it'll say, but do anyways, quickly reading through the instructions to meet Miss Hash in her office. Normally I would hate to be taken away from lunch, even for one of my meetings with her, but one look around my empty table quickly sends me grabbing my bag and heading towards her office, not even being bothered to toss my food in the garbage.

One year ago, the idea of having to see a school counselor was terrifying to me. After all, if you're going there, that means there's something wrong with you, doesn't it? But after the Games last year. . . even if I was never super close with Alt, it wasn't even just losing her that hurt. It was that nobody else was grieving. They made me feel like a black sheep just for feeling bad about my sister dying. Maybe if it weren't for Miss Hash I would think they were right.

Even in my dazed, still a bit confused state, I'm able to easily make my way to the office. I'm just starting to piece together some of the oddities going on around me, the fact that Endian didn't show up to lunch, and then Miss Hash had me called to her office just a minute into lunch, when there's no way I could have finished eating yet, and she should have no way of knowing I was sitting alone. . . .

I shake my head, giving up on trying to sort my thoughts and just deciding to just let Miss Hash explain it to me, my hand wrapping around the doorknob as I take in a deep breath, and open the door. When I step into the room, any confusion I had tried hiding comes bubbling back up, the room totally empty.

"Surprise!" The voices ring out in near unison, Miss Hash, Endian, and even Peri and Firefly popping up from behind their hiding spots, everyone but Peri(who never cracks a smile for anything) having a wide grin on their lips. That confusion disappears in an instant, replaced by surprise as I jump up in the air, my mind racing and heart beating in fear for just a moment- before I realize where I am and who I'm with, and force myself to calm down.

"Wh-" My breath is still shoddy, and I barely get the words out as I look around the room exasperatedly.

"Never had a surprise party before?" Peri asks in a tone that could easily be mistaken as taunting, but in reality I've gotten to know is just her way of teasing.

"No," I reply honestly, taken off-guard that they even know what day it is today, I don't remember ever telling any of them. . . .

"Well," Miss Hash smiles, reaching below her desk and grabbing hold of something. "Better late than never."

I peek up on my tip-toes to steal a look at what she's got, and my eyes widen in shock as soon as she pulls it up and places it on her desk, a tiny little angel cake with white frosting causing my jaw to drop, suddenly feeling the need to take my glasses off and clean them to make sure what I'm seeing is real.

"Happy birthday, Cyril," the soft voice of Firefly comes from my left, hands outstretched with a paper crown as she offers me a cheeky smile. "I'm glad I stole your lunch from you that day," she teases me as she places the crown on my head.

My cheeks blush a bit at the memory, scratching the back of my neck, unsure how to respond, as the embarrassing yet bittersweet memory plays through my mind.

"I meant that in a good way," she tells me, sticking her thumbs in her pockets and flashing a reassuring smile.

"Yeah," I laugh quietly, shaking my head. "I know."

"Good," she affirms, wide grin back in place as she slaps me on the back, jolting me forward a bit with the force. "C'mon, enjoy your party, there's _cake_."

I smile at her, following behind her as we walk over to the desk to get a piece, a mixed up mess of thoughts, memories, and emotions swirling around my head so fast and wildly it makes my head hurt, unable to piece anything together out of it. There's that embarrassing first encounter with Firefly, the heart-stopping shock of walking through this door, the warmth in Firefly's voice when she wished me happy birthday- all of it speeding through my mind, bouncing off my skull and dizzying me every time I attempt to focus in on anything in particular, just a jumbled mess of emotions all blending together.

"You coming?" She asks, raising an eyebrow and giving me a sly grin.

Shaking my head, I put away all of those thoughts, giving up on trying to understand what I'm feeling and just going with the moment, plastering a smile onto my lips to match Firefly's. "Yeah, I'm coming."

 **Picaboo "Peeka" Benner, 18, District Ten**

 **D** **ecember 31st, 100**

 **Morgan Square, District Ten**

"Come on, Peeka, stop gazing and let's go already!" My head peeks over to Maya to see her impatiently waiting, arms crossed as she taps her foot.

I glance back over to the hat shop storefront, feeling a small burst in me, wanting to go in and look around, but I quickly squash it, turning over and hustling over to Maya. I don't want to make her do something that she doesn't want to do, that would be selfish of me. . . .

"Ooh, I know!" She snaps, turning to walk backwards as she faces me, her light blue eyes lighting up in excitement. "We should go to that new years celebration in the town center!"

Again I'm holding my tongue, not wanting to argue with Maya, but having zero desire to go to that party. Just as I'm about to give in and agree, I remember something else, and quickly pipe up, "I would, but I was going to meet Deke-"

"You've been with him every day," she moans, slouching her shoulders and frowning. "Why don't you just take a break from him for one night and have some fun with me?"

"Oh, I don't think Deke would want me to go to a party. . ."

Maya just sighs, placing her hands on her hips and shaking her head. "Look, I get you two are like, relationship goals, but that doesn't mean you two have to spend every moment together. I'm _sure_ he'll understand if you tell him you just wanted to go out with your best friend for _one_ night."

". . . is the party going to have boys at it?" I ask timidly, already cringing back from having to argue with Maya.

"Well, it wouldn't be much of a party if there weren't, would it?" She answers dumbfoundedly.

"I really shouldn't," I plead. "Deke-"

"Deke will be happy that you had a fun time," she tells me assuredly. "Especially when you tell him you were helping your old friend find a boy for me that's as amazing as Deke is for you."

"M-maybe I should go run home and ask Deke if he wants to go-"

"There's no time!" She exclaims, pointing up to the sun, which is just beginning to fall underneath the skyline and out of sight. "C'mon," she moans, grabbing onto my arm and starting to walk me towards the direction of the town center. "Don't make me go all alone. I think I'd about cry if I lost out on a cute boy because I didn't have my wing-girl with me!"

I bite my lip, anxiety bubbling up in me as I glance between the plantations of my home in the one direction, and the town center in the other. Every ounce of my being doesn't want to go that party. I know that Deke will be worried sick if he knew I were at a party with a bunch of boys, but I don't want to make Maya sad. . . darnit, I never should have come to the town without Deke! If he were here it would all be okay. . . .

"Peeka," she whines again, tugging on my arm and giving me a pair of puppy eyes. "Pleaseee."

"Oh-okay," I choke out nervously, eyes flirting over towards the plantation again as I feel an instant pang of guilt. Before it can amount to anything though, Maya is already tugging me along giddily, giggling as she encourages me to keep up with her.

"Come on! You'll have plenty of time for your perfect boyfriend later, for now it's time to get me one!"

* * *

By the time the party is over it's late. When it ended exactly I have no clue, but it had to have been past midnight, judging by the shouts of a 'happy new year' towards the end of the party.

The entire party was spent wandering around, a nervous wreck as Maya dragged me from one boy to the next- with the job of helping pair her up with a nice boy, and making sure that she didn't do anything too stupid towards the end of the night- when she had had a few too many drinks, and her decision making was a bit iffy. In the end, by the time she had found anybody she felt a connection with she was a bit too out of it to be making any decisions about that, and I had to walk her back to her home and leave her with her parents.

After that I just about ran back home, sprinting past my own house and across the field to Deke's, anxiety building up in me as I hope that he isn't too worried. For all he knows I could be anywhere right now. . . gosh I feel so guilty already, I hope he isn't too upset. . . .

As I tip-toe my way around the front of the ranch and to the back entrance, I cross my fingers that Deke fell asleep and didn't notice that I never came back tonight, but instantly hit myself for thinking that. No matter if he noticed or not, I went out to a party without him. . . why do I have to do such awful things to Deke? I don't deserve him. . . .

It's with thought that I quietly open the sliding screen door, walking on egg-shells as I nervously step into the first story of the ranch- which belongs solely to Deke, the rest of the family living on the next two floors. As soon as I walk in, the lights flicker on, and my eyes strain against the sudden burst of light, shielding my vision from the harsh rays as I rapidly blink away the white light that blocks my vision.

"It's pretty late," Deke's voice rings out, dripping with hurt as he crosses his arms, his brown eyes strained red as he looks at me expectantly.

I just timidly nod my head, holding onto my shoulders as they shiver, eyes darting around guiltily.

"Where were you?" He asks in that same pained, cracking voice. His eyes bear into me like I'm some sort of monster, who's done some despicable, unforgivable act- and that look is exactly how I feel on the inside, hating myself for going to that party. It's not even like I didn't know it was bad, I knew that I shouldn't have. . . .

"Where were you?!" Deke demands loudly, taking one step towards me as I flinch backwards, tensing up as I shut my eyes, unable to even look him in the eyes.

"Maya wanted me to go to a party with her," I squeak out guiltily, not even wanting to try to justify it, just feeling wholly sick and terrible, far too much to possibly try to convince myself, much less Deke, that what I did was anybody's fault but my own.

"You went to a party?" He asks me in disbelief, and when I peek my eyes open I see him just a few feet in front of me, looking down at me with shock and so much pain that it causes my heart to feel mushed, wanting to do nothing more than drop down to my knees, hug him, and tell him how sorry I am. But even doing that feels terrible, why do I say sorry? I don't deserve for him to forgive me.

"And were there other boys at this party?" He demands from me, his voice still shaky as he clenches his fists at his side, his eyes bearing into me so hard I shrink back under his gaze. Even as I'm in this vulnerable, tiny position, I force myself to feebly nod my head, cringing as he tenses up even further, even more anger simmering in him as he takes a step closer to me to compensate for my step back.

"And you did something with one of them? Didn't you?" He less asks than tells me, his trust in me seemingly snapping in half as he looks to be on the verge of tears.

"N-no," I stammer out quietly, managing to shrink even further back from him, nearly at the door now and just about curled up into a ball as I hug my shoulders tightly. The look in his eyes just causes me to hate myself even further, every bone in my body aching for him, wishing that I could go back and time and stop myself from being so selfish. This is all my fault!

"Why should I believe you?" He snaps, taking another step towards me as his hurt melts into a feral look of anger. "Since apparently you're going out and partying with boys behind my back? Is this even the first time you've done this? Or am I just nothing to you anymore?"

"I-I-I," the words come out a jumbled mess, stammered and half-witted, my mind incoherent, my heart still racing too quickly, pumping guilt and regret and fear throughout my entire body, my legs wobbling as I begin to tear up, attempting to hold them back but failing as they come out in choked gasps.

" _You're_ crying?!" He demands, stepping closer to me, so close that his face is just inches from mine, his hot breath in my face as his anger intensifies into full blown rage, so all-encompassing that his entire body is shaking- all because of me. All because I'm a selfish, horrible person. . . .

"I'm sorry," I choke out through the tears, not knowing what else to say at this point, just clinging to some hope that somehow Deke could ever forgive me. He has to forgive me. He's the only one for me, I can't lose him. . . .

He takes a step back, my apology doing nothing to simmer his anger as he lets loose a torrent of awful words at me that I don't hear, the entire time too focused on his hand, rearing back and slapping against my cheek, sending a hot pain as I'm flung back against the glass door, more tears continuing to fall, burning up against my red cheek as they trail downwards.

Deke takes another step towards me, and I let out a gasp, cowering as I cover myself up, a blubber of incomprehensible apologies escaping from me in a rush, hoping beyond hope that he can forgive me. Why am I so awful to him? This is all my fault. If I would've just stayed with Deke, this never would have happened. I never would have hurt him, and he would never have to get so mad. . . .

He raises his hand again, and I flinch as he slaps me again, hitting the same spot and stinging my cheek with an intense pain, even the numbed feeling of guilt doing nothing to ease the awful pain I feel. I bring a hand up to the spot, covering it as I continue to try and fail to keep back the tears, feeling sick to my stomach to even be crying right now. Why should I be crying right now? When I'm the one that's hurting him. . . .

Deke doesn't even spare me another glance after that, stalking away and slamming the door to his room, flipping the lights on the way out and leaving me in the cold darkness, left shivering on the floor, warm tears streaming down my hot red cheeks, dripping to the floor that I'm curled up on, crumpled into a tiny ball.

What if Deke doesn't forgive me? What if I went too far, and he can never forgive me again. . . no, he has to forgive me. He always does. Deke is so much better than I am, he always forgives me, no matter how bad I am, and how mad he gets. He'll forgive me. . . .

He has to.

 **Cyril Lovelace, 11, District Three**

 **May 24th, Year 101**

 **047 Moffet Avenue, District Three**

There will be no sleep tonight. Everything about this entire day, this whole night, the idea of what will come tomorrow. . . it's all too much. A bad day at school is nothing too new, a teacher scolding me for not paying attention and a few kids snickering at Endian and I behind our backs are pretty much daily events at this point. Hearing the whirring sounds of machinery from the other side of my thin walls, the occasional swears and crying being heard from mom- even that isn't exactly unheard of, as much as I wish it were. I'm not even sure if I want to know what she's doing in there, but I just wish that I didn't have to hear it every time it happens, her office separated from my room by just inches of wood.

But today is the first time in an entire year that I've had to worry about the Games. Even last year I wasn't too nervous, the tiny chance of me being reaped constantly running through my mind whenever I began to worry. But no amount of convincing myself, attempting to crunch the numbers, will stop the worry that wracks my body.

If Alt got chosen, what's to stop me from being reaped too? To say that it's not going to happen to me is just an impossible hurdle to leap over, and the mind-numbing fear that I have over an entire decade left of being eligible for the Games does nothing to calm me down. Even if I don't get reaped this year, what about next year? Or the next one, or the one after that. . . .

How can I think of anything else but the Games, when in a single moment of bad luck my life could be torn away from me, sentenced to death in the arena. Because it would be death. Alt was smart, resourceful, and so much stronger than I am- and even she couldn't win. Maybe if you aren't a Career, then the only way to really win is to be like Dalton: a cold, uncaring person that is willing to throw their own best friend at an enemy just to slow them down. Could I sacrifice Endian, just to give myself a few seconds head start on running away?

I'm not even fully sure what I want the answer to that question to be.

I turn over in my bed, my eyes closed but not a single drop of drowsiness slipping over me. My mind is still racing, all of these thoughts and fears of the Games leaping up, sprouting off in every which direction, taking my mind on tangents as I distract myself- doing anything and everything but relaxing and calming myself down.

Giving up on sleeping, I slip out from under my covers and drop to the ground, timing my jump with the loud sound of metal cutting against metal coming from the next room, the soft thump barely audible for even me. The second my bare feet touch against the cold metal my toes curl up, anxiety pumping through my veins, adding to the fear that I'm already feeling and morphing into a hefty shot of adrenaline that gets my bones shaking.

My eyes flirt to my pillowcase, the hidden stitching that hides my small USB stick, the only possession that I truly care about. Containing just about the only thing that I ever do for fun- or the one thing that I do for fun that my parents haven't ripped away from me.

They can't take everything from me though, and the programs on that small electronic are about the only thing that keeps me sane on nights when the awful sounds from the next room get too much to bear, the words that are constantly whispered behind my back getting to me and breaking past my thin shell that I've tried so hard to build up. When it all builds up to be too much, the three-D modeling and basic web design that I do for fun becomes the one thing that allows me to feel some semblance of meaning, some tiny shard of normality that I can cling to and clutch for the rest of the night as I lose myself in it, until I collapse in exhaustion on my keyboard, sleeping away any pain that's left. Just resetting myself until the next time that I overload again, and have to repeat the whole process all over again.

It may be an awful, unhealthy system that Miss Hash would be horrified to hear I have in place- but it's _my_ system. It isn't mom's, not dad's, not a piece of schoolwork from some teacher that hates me, or an allowed task that the Lovelace family has approved. It's my silly, useless little way of rebelling, I guess.

But right now even that little, secret victory over my parents isn't enough to outweigh this awful, jittery feeling that pervades every little nerve in my body. I don't think anything is enough. Or at least not anything that I'm brave enough to do. I'm sure it were Peri in my shoes she could come up with something to do, and if I were Firefly than I would have the guts to do it.

But instead I'm Cyril Lovelace, the boy who sneaks down to the kitchen at one A.M. to get snacks he doesn't even want as his form of rebellion- shaking in fear the entire way down, flinching at every sound, jumping at every shadow, and dashing back to his room with an apple that will go unnoticed the next morning, and uneaten that night as it's tossed into the garbage with just a few small bite marks.

This time I shake even more than usual, feel an even stronger rush of adrenaline as I open the fridge, be just a bit bolder as I slip the door shut and reach for a roll instead. Tonight I bound through the halls quicker than usual, tip-toe with slightly longer steps past mom's office, and slide the door shut behind me just a bit faster, cringing just a bit more as it sounds off just a tad louder than normal.

Tonight I force myself to anxiously nibble for just a bit longer, and let the clock tick just a couple more minutes past one before burying the evidence in the trash, leaving it just a few places further from the bottom.

I jump onto my bed with minimally less caution, holding my breath for one second less with my eyes closed slightly less tight, before letting out my breath feeling just one notch more confident, one shred less nervous as I drop my head onto the pillow.

And when I finally do fall asleep, hours later, I fall asleep feeling just a tiny bit braver.

 **Kyle Braddock, 33, District Ten Mentor**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **The Town Center, District Ten**

Whether or not you like District Ten, you sure as hell got to respect them. I've seen enough of the reapings today to know that all throughout the other districts, the entire reaping was one somber, tense event, intermixed with a hell of a lot of drama, screaming, and crying. In any of the other crowds, you'd be hard-pressed to find a single smile. Yet here today, despite the horrible event that's about to be underway, most everyone has a sunny disposition.

Even if it only takes someone a few seconds of staring at any single person to realize most everyone is faking, a hollow smile plastered on their lips, it's still better than nothing. Fake it 'till you make it, right? I know for certain that I've used that motto more than a few times before, and while it hasn't exactly given me the best results, I'm still alive, so I can't exactly complain. A heart beat and enough energy to fake a smile is more than most victors have going for them.

The mayor is among the minority with a serious complexion, looking dead serious as he lists of the crimes that the districts have made that must be paid in the blood of our ancestors children for a millennia to come. Mayor Sunning always has had a bit of a flare for the dramatic, and always loves to match the tone of his announcements. I honest to god wonder if the man even has an actual personality, or if he's just a Capitol engineered drone designed to perfectly deliver speeches.

Once he's done thoroughly cursing our ancestors and demeaning 'us' for being unlucky enough to be their offspring, he announces our escort, just a hint of disappointment as a new name is given, the 'elderly' Mace Lotu(previously of District Seven) calmly walking out onto stage, a wide smile matching that of the rest of the district, the only difference being his looking thoroughly genuine. Eh, wishing for an escort who isn't happy to be reaping kids is a bit much to hope for, I just hope the man isn't a giant asshole. There's more than enough of those escorts to go around.

"Hello, everybody, I am extremely pleased to be here in your lovely district!" He is greeted with a thin layer of applause and half-hearted cheering, though he seems satisfied by it, his grin widening as he continues. "Now, I never have been much of one with a flair for long speeches, so let's get to the main event and figure out who our tributes will be!"

This time there's barely a scattering of applause, mostly coming from those outside of reaping age, and probably from the few who don't have any loved ones in danger of the Games. Mace doesn't seem to notice though, pretty much prancing over to the bowl, whistling as he plunges his hand to the very bottom of the bowl, and slowly pulling it out, his hand shaking in excitement as he clutches onto it, holding it against his chest as he walks over to the mic.

I suppose it makes sense that to still be an escort past the age of fifty, a bit of enthusiasm is required- and I sure as hell aren't one to shy away from some energy- but even for me this is a bit much. There's plenty of time for fun in the Capitol, but you shouldn't be literally bouncing in excitement as you hold a slip that says the name of a child who your dropping into a deathmatch. That kid could be an innocent eight-year-old, a twenty-something single parent, or any other horrible possibility that we've already seen in previous reapings today.

Mace doesn't seem to hold any sort of realization to that, though, tearing open the slip and leaning into the mic as he excitedly reads off, "Cedric Stetson!"

It only takes a single moment for a boy to storm out of the eighteen-year-old section, a fire burning in his eyes and no hint of even an attempt at a fake smile appearing. Oh well, spitfires are tough to reel in, but if you manage to coach them well enough, you got as sure of a bet at victor as possible. Just as long as he doesn't antagonize himself here with his selection.

Mace meets Cedric at the stairs, holding out his hand to help the boy up, though Cedric slaps it away, marching up to the stage and standing next to the mic, breathing heavily as he stares daggers at Mace, who seems unfazed as he skips over to the boy. "Lovely to meet you Cedric!" He announces cheerily, and it takes all my willpower to not cringe, keeping up my shallow smile as I give Mace an odd eye, channeling all my strength into the boy and praying that he doesn't straight up sock the preppy escort.

Cedric seems ready to aim his anger in another direction though, not even playing along and doing the silly mini-interview. "I choose the goddamn Benner's kid."

Mace seems taken aback just a bit, squinting at the boy for a moment before shrugging. "Alright, could you give a full name please?"

"There's only one of them," he grunts in reply, and it's only now that I notice the harsh sunburn, thin stomach, cut up hands, and manage to connect it to the name I just heard. Benner. Benner plantations. One of the larger scale agricultural productions our humble district offers, and judging by this boys messed up appearance and burning hatred- most likely not a very nice place to work. Not the worst choice I suppose, at least there's no personal hatred there, maybe I can manage to pull something out of my ass for these two. I just hope that the Benner kid is less of a firecracker than Cedric seems to be.

It's as soon as this thought crosses my mind that a girl steps out of the nineteen-year-old section, a very weak smile stuck on her lips as she fights back tears. My heart aches at the sight, even after all these years my resistance to crying kids still not built up. The girl looks harmless too, a cute cowboy hat hanging over her dark brown hair. Overall, the girl just about spells out the word cute, and even with all these younger tributes this year, she'll definitely be gaining her fair share of sponsors from her looks alone. Hopefully her personality matches that initial assumption, it'll sure as hell make things easier on my end.

By the time the girl manages to inch her way to the stairs, she's sniffling back the tears, her eyes constantly flirting over towards her section as she chokes out a few sobs, graciously taking Mace's hand as he helps her out, the man adopting a more gentle aura as he carefully leads her next to Cedric, who seems to hold no regret towards his choice, staring daggers at the poor girl as she walks by him.

The girl flinches back from the gaze, inching away from him and looking at him with a look so guilty I would swear that she was the one to choose him. To call her skittish would be an understatement, the boy shuffling his feet sending her hopping backwards and causing her to hug onto her shoulders.

Mace offers the girl a reassuring smile, patting her on the back lightly before moving onto the questions. "Hello darling, can we get your name?"

"Picaboo Benner," she softly murmurs, tightening her grip on her shoulders. "You can call me Peeka though."

"Peeka, I love it, such a cute name!"

"Thanks," Peeka smiles, seeming genuinely pleased by Mace's compliment.

"And so fitting for such an adorable young woman," Mace smiles, causing Peeka to blush and avert her eyes to the ground.

Done with his short interview, Mace turns around to face the crowd, though I keep my gaze on Picaboo, sensing something from her that gets me just a bit uneasy. The way she carries herself, the tone of her voice. . . she reminds me of somebody.

"Well!" Mace's voice booms out, ruining any chance of managing to remember who I'm thinking of. Eh, I'll have another few days to figure her out. Shouldn't be too hard. "Today has certainly been a fantastic reaping, and we've got two dazzling tributes here to represent District Ten, and bring home that victory crown!"

The crowd cheers at this, everybody out there just as desperate as I am for another victor, having waited patiently long enough. All the other districts have gotten their time to shine, now this year is ours.

Mace doesn't even bother trying to grab Cedric's arm, instead settling for just hoisting Peeka's hand high into the air. "Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes, Cedric Stetson and Picaboo Benner!"

 **Dalton Faux, 23, District Three Mentor**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **The Town Center, District Three**

This year has potential to be quite the interesting Games. With every district pair starting off the Games with a grudge against each other, many will be a lot more desperate for alliances with other districts, and much more vulnerable to making irrational, emotion decisions. There's also of course the high ability for the chosen tribute to throw a pity party about being chosen for some awful reason, or on the flip side of that coin- the chance for a good 'ol revenge story to garner hype and sympathy from others.

Either way, everybody is going to be highly strung up this year, both tributes and mentors alike(half of them just about broke after last year). High emotions leads to poor decision making. Poor decision making leads to vulnerability towards manipulation, a particular talent that I have. As long as I get a tribute even half as willing as Alt was last year, and with at least a fraction more tact, I'll be gifted my best chance at victor in ages. Just don't give me any whiny little kids or angsty, vengeful teenagers and I'll be fine.

I don't even bother to pretend to pay attention to that same, dull speech the mayor gives, picking at my fingernails as he finally begins to finish up, everybody in this grey district ready to move on with the main event. Everyone has their work they need to get to, and stalling this any longer does nothing to temper any fear in the pens. Not that any of the cocky, analytical bastards think that they have any chance of being reaped. They're all too sure of themselves, too trusting in statistics to see any universe in which their reaped.

That always has been the main flaw of District Three tributes. Too sure of themselves, too trusting in their brain power, and too tactless to attempt to approach the problem the Games present from a new angle aside from the typical cocky brainiac. We've been going at this for over a hundred years now, and yet still we still manage to produce tributes like Alt, who portray our flaws so clearly. But Alt is old news, and now all that matters is which two tributes I'll be gifted(or more likely- stuck with) this year.

The young escort Acestes Cinnabar steps out on stage, an easy smile and no signs of nerves for his first assignment, the nineteen-year-old seeming genuinely glad to be here in our district that Capitolites tend to dislike so strongly. Not that I particularly blame them, it's a lot of grey to take in at once, not a smidgen of color on any of the buildings or walkways. Paint costs money, after all, and as our fine district loves to proclaim: waste not, want not. That lack of creativity is exactly what makes my job so hard compared to the dimwits in the outer districts.

"Hello everybody," Acestes greets casually, his posture even slouching as he grins out at the audience, running a hand through his thick, dark brown hair. "It's my distinguished pleasure to be here today in District Three this fine evening, and I look forward to seeing the fantastic tribute that Panem has come to expect out of this brilliant district."

I nearly snort at the amount of sucking up the new escort is doing, and find my thoughts mixed on him. On the one hand, if he's not just playing it up for the cameras- he's going to get annoying fast. But still, I suppose it makes sense for a young escort to make a good impression on his first district.

And if that was his goal, he's certainly accomplished it, the mood in the square seeming to go just marginally up, the mayor- vein as he is- tilting his head into the air proudly. What a bunch of easily flattered dimwits.

My respect goes up for Acestes just a small bit, watching him closely as he walks over to our massive reaping bowl, taking a slip from the center of the bowl and taking his time to walk back up to the podium, a slight kick in his step, genuine excitement running through him as he readjusts the microphone.

I'm tapping my foot impatiently now, the soft thud of my shoe against the stage one of the few noises in the giant square, echoing out to even the furthest back reaches of the town center. Acestes spares me a side glance, smirking as he gives me an expectant look, before quickly turning back to the crowd, wasting no more time to tear open the slip.

I force myself to hold my foot still, a slight smirk appearing on my own lips as well. This man better be as intriguing as I'm beginning to think of him as being, because if he turns out to just be exactly how he's acting, and having no deeper thoughts than innocent giddiness and flattery, disappointment won't even begin to cover what I'll feel.

"And now, the moment all of you are waiting for, our tribute for the one-hundred and first Hunger Games is. . . Cyril Lovelace!"

As soon as the name is announced, I let out a short laugh, unable to help myself. Thankfully the distasteful reaction is mostly blocked out by the murmurs of surprise and confusion running through the crowds, Acestes letting on no further signs that he even recognizes the name, continuing to stare blankly at the crowd, waiting for somebody to come out of one of the sections.

My smile that has now firmly found its way onto my lips drops off the instant Cyril steps out. The boy isn't a cold, logical Lovelace ready to do whatever it takes to win. He's the goddamn little kid with ADD. Wrong. Fucking. Lovelace.

The rest of the district, not having access to Alt's family's medical, work, and school records- seems to not come to the realization as soon as I do that this is a completely different tribute than our most recent Lovelace, but Cyril doesn't take long to show them that himself.

By the time he's made even two steps towards the stage he's already tearing up, shaking wildly as he flinches back, Peacekeepers having to walk him up, his wobbly legs barely carrying him as tears begin to stain his cheeks. While I've already switched my attention from the lost cause, sorry excuse of a tribute- Acestes seems to have genuine sympathy for the boy. His features are soft as he helps Cyril up the stage, gently taking his hand and rubbing him on the back, giving him shallow words of encouragement.

Even more surprising than his reaction, however, is his lack of an interview, not pressing the teary-eyed boy on his last name or his relationship to the late Alt Lovelace. Not that I particularly care to hear a dull, meaningless interview, but still. Capitolites love their drama, and Acestes is missing out on a chance to make this reaping one of the highest rated of the year.

Instead, Acestes waits patiently for Cyril to collect himself, before finally popping the question that has to be asked, "Cyril, who would you like to choose as your partner in the Games?"

Now my interest is restored, and I find myself leaning forward, hands clasped together as I try to predict who this may be. An older sibling that speaks down to him? A bully from school? Because he's sure to have loads of those.

All of the ideas swirling around in my head all share the same trait of being unethical assholes, a small light at the end of the tunnel that gives me some hope of having a worthwhile tribute this year. After all, if you're willing to harass an eleven-year-old to the point of making him want you dead, odds are you won't be shying away from some good 'ol manipulation to ensure that you make your way home.

Cyril looks to be thoroughly conflicted by the question, shifting uncomfortably as he closes his eyes, whispering to himself as he attempts to come up with a name, before his eyes suddenly snap open, alight with determination as he rips the mic from Acestes' hand. "Malcolm Hall," he announces assuredly.

This time I'm not able to contain myself with just a chuckle, full on laughter rising from my throat at the pick. Man, this boy may be a surefire bloodbath, but he's made for one interesting reaping, I'll give him that.

Again my laughter is hidden by the shocked whispers running through the square, it taking just a few seconds for a boy to get shoved out of the thirteen-year-old section, sure enough being the same exact boy that exposed his older brother during the final eight interviews last year.

"What the fuck?" He yells, showing no signs of sadness or fear, but instead just complete anger at the boy.

As soon as he says this, Cyril's face goes pale, his whole body shaking as he scrambles for the microphone. "I-I m-meant the other one! Liam!"

I'm barely able to contain myself, mouth shielded by my hand is I bite back laughter, suddenly wishing for a bag of popcorn. He picked the wrong fucking one. Oh snow, this is too good to be true.

Malcolm seems to get even more mad at this revelation, the scrawny little boy looking none the more intimidating with this anger, but still seeming to send Cyril quivering back in fear.

Acestes meanwhile just looks overwhelmed, awkwardly taking the microphone back from Cyril as he coughs into his fist. "I'm afraid that you are not allowed to change your selection, as per the stipulations given for this year's quell."

"This is fucking bullshit," Malcolm yells, his pre-pubescent voice cracking as he does. Peacekeepers come up to either side of him and drag the boy kicking and screaming up the stage, a blend of high-pitched insults being flung Cyril's way.

One of the Peacekeepers even has to remain on stage with Malcolm, holding onto him and keeping him from attacking the boy(not that he looks like he could do much damage).

"Well, District Three," Acestes smiles, ignoring the complete mess his two tributes are in. "Your tributes, Cyril Lovelace and Malcolm Hall!"

As my two hopeless tributes are dragged away into the mayors building to say their goodbyes, any hope of having a victor vaporizes into thin air. But, while I may not be getting a fellow mentor out of these Games, one thing is for sure: there won't be a single boring moment.

* * *

 **A/N: Ow.**

 **Reaping Recap next chapter.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Now that we've seen all 12 tributes, who is your favorite? Why?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Super early pick for victor? Why?**

 **Trivia(1 point): We haven't done one of these in a while, so what state is D10 located in?**


	9. Recap: Crossroads and Hidden Pasts

**A/N: Ahhhh, sorry this took sooooo long. I could handle classes, but I just started working five days a work(instead of 2), so now I have to deal with a fifteen hour work week, plus lesson planning for said job, plus my already decent sized college work load. I basically had to abandon my social life for a week to just scrap this together :P**

* * *

 **Coira Thompson, 32, Hunger Games Interviewer**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **100 Colfax Avenue, The Presidential Palace**

The hours following the first reaping is always a hectic time. For the past few years I've been on the forefront of collecting information on all the tributes, putting together files in a timely enough matter for the night time news to have enough to talk about. After all of my time spent gathering info, it feels strange to be on the receiving end of it instead.

The tablet is clutched tightly in my arms, all the data electronically transferred onto it physically to avoid any unwanted eyes seeing any information deemed to sensitive to the public. Both security and the gathering team are most likely glad for the switch to digital, after twenty-five years of dealing with my archaic father refusing to use anything but paper files. He said that he always liked the feel of it or something, that it always felt more real to him if he could hold it in his hands. The only thing I care about is just making sure some of these things on this tablet are never seen by the public.

It's been nearly a year now since I've been to the Presidential Palace, despite living just a block away. The security is always a pain to go through, and unless I've been specifically requested there for something, the hassle isn't worth it. But of course, briefing the president on the twenty-four tributes most definitely fits under the category of 'worth the hassle.'

From everything that I've gotten to know about the president and Head Gamemaker(most of that info coming from Jaycen), the two aren't going to be playing around this year. The victor isn't going to be left up to chance, and these brief summaries on the tributes could be the linchpin to deciding who they're willing to let live, and who they're going to sentence to death in the arena.

After sitting in the waiting room for an amount of time that would begin to annoy most, an assistant steps out of the president's office, and states my name without even glancing up from her tablet. I only take a moment to tidy my hair, before lifting myself from my seat and entering the room.

The office is recently renovated, now looking more like a business firm manager's office than the president's, with pristine white walls and flooring, the desk a sleek black while the chairs on either side of it are an oddly shaped see through glass.

"Madame president," I greet her with a nod of my head.

"Ms. Thompson, a pleasure," she replies with a toothy smile that leaves me just a bit uncomfortable. "I couldn't think of a better replacement for your father, and we're all excited to see you take his place."

"Well, I don't really plan on staying for longer than a year," I shrug, mentally hitting myself for being so casual with the president as she raises an eyebrow at me. Dad really has finally started to rub off on me.

"Either way," she continues after a moments silence, picking at her fingernails absently. "In regards to the tragedy of Alexander Ricci, we're glad to see someone willing to step in and fill his shoes."

"Yeah," I nod, giving up on trying to have an overly formal meeting and just deciding to blame dad later if anything bad comes out of it. "Jaycen told me that you've been getting some leads on his murder?"

She purses her lips at this, and I can't figure if it's from her brother casually mentioning matters of national security to someone without the clearance, or if she just doesn't want to get off topic. She never struck me as a chatty type.

"I'm sure he'll find something in due time, but that's a matter for another time."

"Of course," I reply quickly, bringing up the tablet and bringing up our first district, feeling just a hint of excitement to read through the profiles. I feel a twinge of guilt at being excited about these kids being reaped, but hey, it's my job to make sure that the Capitol finds them interesting, and doing that requires at least a little bit of enthusiasm. "This years Games is already gaining ridiculous popularity. Sponsorship records are being smashed, partly due to the fact that we have quite a few familiar faces."

"How so?" She asks with a raised eyebrow.

"We have a daughter of a mayor, a pseudo-celebrity, two siblings of a previous year's tributes, and- on top of our siblings- three people who were interviewed last year for the final eight interviews."

She seems to ponder on that for a moment, stroking her chin thoughtfully for a solid half-minute before slowly nodding her head and looking up to me.

"I heard there was quite a bit of drama in our first district," she comments dully, glancing down at her fingernails and feigning disinterest. It doesn't take six years of CDA training to see the intrigued gleam in her eyes though.

"You could say that," I smile, airdropping the District One information onto her computer for her to read through at her own pace. "It's the only district we have zero clue as to why the selection was made. By all means, Hailey Hills seems like a girl with plenty of enemies, much more than a typical thirteen-year-old girl has anyways."

"Seems like she takes care of them well enough," the president murmurs, eyes scanning the screen. "I'm seeing a lot of medical reports for her sparring opponents. A bit of a temper problem?"

"Well, she did assault two Peacekeepers during the Reaping, so I would say that's a fair assessment."

"Interesting," she comments with a smirk. "Keep your eye on that one, she could very well be an interesting tribute to watch, but left out of control, could easily become a problem."

With that she exits out of Hailey's form, moving on to Prestige's. Her eyebrows raise as soon as she begins reading, and she motions for me to continue speaking.

"Prestige Freeman, as you can see, has already made quite a name for herself in the Capitol sports community. She's set to be the first District One citizen to permanently move to the Capitol later this year."

"So she's a soccer prodigy?"

"I'm no sports buff," I tell her honestly, quickly exiting out of the documents and bringing up a news website and transferring it to her computer. "But all the sports channels have been talking about her nonstop, and from what I've heard calling her a prodigy would be an understatement. Currently out of the ten professional soccer teams, there's only three woman, with none of them being starters. For any team to not only take a chance, but offer a starting spot to a fifteen-year-old girl that barely cracks five feet- she's something pretty special."

"Sounds like District One has some fairly competent tributes in some unassuming packages."

"Would seem so, the two have also garnered some massive popularity in the Capitol. In early sponsorship both are in the top seven, and Prestige is a comfortable second place. The only thing I would worry about is that Prestige perhaps has a bit too much popularity, there's already quite a few angry sports fans complaining about Prestige being reaped."

"Well, if she's really as fantastic as they think she is, she'll have no trouble in the Games, will she?" The president asks, moving past the first district and beginning to skim through the next few. "District Two seems to have gone by with little trouble."

"Certainly less dramatic than District One, both in terms of reapings and the complexity of their tributes. Neither of them are exactly what you would call wildcards. Unity Creed is a typical upper-middle class girl, nothing at all standing out about her in any aspect of her report. Horatio Rex was a typical District Two brute, but he got a concussion shortly before the Games and lost his chance to volunteer. He's going to be right up there with Galavant and Carolina for contention as the most deadly tribute we've ever seen."

"I see quite a few accusations have been made against him," President Choice tells me sharply.

"More than just accusations, Horatio should be in prison five times over if it weren't for his family's status and his skill at the academy."

"That's disappointing," she frowns. "He seemed like quite a good choice for victor."

"I would advise refraining from allowing a rapist to become victor," I tell her offhandedly, mostly just hoping to see her agree with me.

"Yes," she murmurs, nodding along as she stares at the screen intently, before quickly exiting out and shaking her head. "And I recognize the names from District Three."

"Cyril Lovelace, brother of the late Alt Lovelace, but not very similar to his older sister. While it can't be confirmed until he's properly tested in the Capitol, it seems quite likely from his school reports that he has ADD, and it's effected his school efforts quite heavily. While he's by no means a slouch, he's nowhere near the intelligence level the rest of his family seems to possess."

"And he picked. . . Malcolm Hall?" She asks, seemingly confused by the pick.

"On accident, it would seem. He meant to pick Liam Hall, the one who had bullied Alt in their childhood, but picked Malcolm by mistake instead."

"So, tell me about this Malcolm," she ushers me, seemingly intrigued by the results she's seeing on her page.

"Aside from appearing in the final eight interviews last year, he's had a relatively normal childhood, perhaps one who got in a worryingly large amount of trouble at school over stupid things. But just a few days ago, a teacher thought that Malcolm was holding back in class, and had him tested for his intelligence level."

"And?" She asks impatiently.

"Genius levels. Puts Alt to shame, even with the age disadvantage. If you were to go strictly by IQ, he's arguably the most intelligent tribute we've ever had in the Games."

"Interesting," she nods, her smirk reappearing. "I can see why sponsorship is so high this year, it seems we've gotten quite lucky with our cast of tributes."

"Would seem so," I agree, swiping away and moving to District Four. "Merrium Solera. Recently engaged to a rich playboy, comes from wealth and is fairly well trained. Seems to be taking after the typical strategy used by the District One females, and is finding some massive success for it: sitting at first place in sponsorship currently."

"And unlike District One, she picked a trained partner."

"McKenna Bay. Daughter of the current mayor of District Four, and an exceptionally skilled trainee, with a particular talent in strategy and leadership. She's apparently also quite the young political expert, and seems in pretty good position to become the third ever female mayor in Panem history once she comes of age. While her popularity isn't quite as high as some of the others, in terms of early odds she's been topping the charts along with Horatio."

"And I heard that we had a 'volunteer' in District Five," she says, giving an odd look after seeing the picture of the boy in front of her."

"We did, Levi Ezra. He's a bit of a peculiar case. Decent marks in school aside from a high amount of absences, apparently a model citizen, and an overall popular guy according to all school reports on him, even won homecoming king at his high school nearly unanimously."

"So the reasoning behind him volunteering?"

"No way to know for sure, but we have a pretty good idea based on his medical history."

"Does he have some sort of terminal condition?"

"In. . . a way, yes," I tell her awkwardly, flipping through the record and trying to think of how to word it. "There really isn't a technical name for it, we haven't really seen it since the last rebellion, and even then it was so rare it never got named. We're not even full sure how exactly it works, doctors have never examined a patient, although I'm sure they'll be eager to get a look at him to figure it out."

"Well, what _do_ we know about it?" She asks, frustration beginning to seep into her voice.

"The, uh, condition is apparently somewhat similar to a brain aneurysm. That being in that it strikes suddenly, without warning, and without symptoms. While we don't have many subjects to confirm anything, it's believed to be a fully fatal condition that can, quite terrifyingly, kill you instantly at any moment, with zero warning or time to even react to what has happened."

"Sounds. . . strange."

"Apparently medical experts agree. Lots of rumors thrown around that the previous government created it as a biological weapon, with the intent to use it if the rebellion ever got fully out of control. Nothing to confirm those accusations though."

"I might have to look into it," she hums, seeming almost glad at the chance to dig through classified bio-warfare information. Am I really surprised at that?

"It'll be interesting to see what our doctors uncover. But moving onto his district partner, Sigma Krell, we have another interesting case. Daughter of a peacekeeper, reports from neighbors of domestic disturbances, all of which amounted to nothing, most likely due to her father being rather high ranking. Furthermore, her older brother, who according to school reports she was quite fond of, committed suicide last month. Her school psychiatrist seems to think the event has completely traumatized her, to the point where he seems to think she's suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder."

"She certainly seemed the part during her reaping," Delilah murmurs, the reapings playing out in front of her.

"According to teacher reports, she's mute. Hasn't spoken a single word in school for an entire year now, and I doubt her brother's passing has done that any favors. If Levi desperately needs to see a doctor, this girl is in dire need of a psychologist."

"Certainly. . . well, that's enough time on them, I've heard some intriguing things from District Six this year."

"Father and daughter duo. Clyde and Rain Kaniff. They have a. . . complex backstory. To summarize it briefly in the sake of time, Clyde got his girlfriend Jane pregnant at an exceptionally young age. By sheer luck both his girlfriend and his daughter Rain survived the birth, and from there onward their record seems fairly normal, with the only thing we have any papers on being Clyde picking up a job at a factory."

"I'm beginning to sense a turn here," she lilts.

"Three years back, Clyde had a psychotic break. Undiagnosed schizophrenia. The results of his breakdown are. . . disturbing." I stop at that, not having the stomach to read through the extent of the police report. Imagining Connie having to go through that. . . it brings a shiver to my bones imagining it.

As Delilah reads through it, even she seems shocked, her eyes widening as she peels her eyes off of the screen and over to me. "And he's still a ticking time bomb then?"

"Luckily not. We've been working on a cure for schizophrenia for years now, and they made a breakthrough recently. Clyde is patient zero, and seems to be fully in control of himself again, with his hallucinations fully gone. They're still testing for side effects, but it seems to be a miracle drug."

"And so Rain and Clyde are both. . . aware of what happened?"

I shuffle uncomfortably at the thought, but shake my head. "We don't really know for sure. . . but from what we know, it doesn't seem so. Clyde has no memories of the night, and only knows that he murdered his wife that night. As for Rain, a short session with an investigator afterwards lead them to believe she suffered such massive trauma from the event that she fully blocked it from her memory, though we won't know for sure until we get a true professional to get inside her head in the Capitol."

"I hope for her sake they've both forgotten," Delilah comments, seeming to hold genuine horror towards the situation as she waves her hand and shakes her head. "Let's move on, shall we?"

"Of course. As you most likely know, from here on out records are much less reliable, and are harder to come by, so we're working with much less information."

"That's fine, proceed."

"District Seven, Bailey Riley and Rachel Drake. We know nothing about them except that based on the reapings they seem to be bitter enemies, and neither seems to standout very much."

"Not every tribute can have the spotlight," she shrugs.

"District Eight may manage to scrap together some tributes of interest though. Lex Renault and Nicholas Ionas. Again, records on the two are limited, especially in the case of Lex, who seems to be completely and utterly off the map. But at the reaping, Lex accused Nicholas of raping and murdering his older sister."

"Oh dear," Delilah murmurs, though that spark of interest is right back in her eyes. Guess I can't expect her humanity to last for too long.

"On top of that, we've managed to dig up a Peacekeeper report from three years back that found a girl, most likely about fourteen at the time, dead in the streets. The expected cause of death was childbirth, though no baby was ever found, though a child of about three years old went to say goodbye to Lex."

"And this Nicholas, does he have a criminal record?"

"In his past, he certainly seemed the type. But about, you guessed it, three years ago, his record began to clean up, and he recently got engaged."

The smirk that appears on Delilah's lips can only be described as comically villainous as she leans back into her chair, clasping her hands together. "Interesting," she comments plainly.

"One way to put it," I nod, flipping towards the next district. "Next up is Juno Chance and Clara Orwell. They have typical records for kids from District Nine, and in the reaping it seemed heavily implied the two were exes, with the breakup not being very amicable."

"And District Ten?"

"Picaboo- yes, it is pronounced peek-a-boo, I double checked- Benner and Cedric Stetson. Little info on both, though we do know that Picaboo comes from a wealthy family that owns a plantation, and Cedric works on said plantation, which seems to have some high death rates and poor working conditions. Not too hard to piece it together from there. Only other thing worth mentioning would be Picaboo is engaged, and has been for some time now."

"Lots of tributes with significant others it would appear, interesting. And what do you have on District Eleven?"

"Bluebell Evans and Frazier Belfast. A middle class girl with a pretty face and some awful marks in school, and a man on deaths row for the rape and murder of four separate girls, one of which was the younger sister of Bluebell."

"Well that answers that question," Delilah mutters, glancing over Frazier's file wearily. "If I recall correctly, there's a law in place to exclude those on deaths row from being reaped or volunteering, is there not?"

"There is, but. . ."

"He neither reaped nor volunteered, he was selected," she sighs, shaking her head. "Loopholes. Dammit. Don't even attempt to 'get his side of the story' when interviewing him. Vilify that man and leave it to the Gamemakers to ensure he dies swiftly."

"Of course," I reply immediately, already planning on doing exactly that and glad to have her support.

"I'm hoping our final district ends on a better note?"

"I would say so. Blaze Colton and Ephraim Kress. Unsure why the two picked each other, though Blaze seems to hold some ill-feelings towards Ephraim. While this is totally unconfirmed, my personal hypothesis I've pieced together is that it has to do with Blaze's younger sister. Blaze's brother made the final eight a few years back, and in that interview it was clear that Blaze is fiercely protective of his younger sister, and hot-headed as they come. On the other side, Ephraim has a record of 'teasing' other kids. The reports make it quite clear that he generally means nothing sinister by it, but still, I don't imagine it too unlikely that Ephraim picked the wrong person to pick on, especially considering he attends the same school as Blaze's younger sister- who was also at the reaping with pink hair."

Delilah nods her head approvingly, smiling at me. "Quite a dramatic pair then, I like it."

"They certainly fit in with the rest of this year's cast," I agree.

"You're going to have your hands full this year Coira, I'm glad that we have you up to the task. I have full faith that you can let these young men and women shine to their true potential."

Turning off the tablet and sliding it into my jackets inside pocket, I spare her a weak smile. "Let's hope so."

"Well that's all that we really can do, isn't it?" She asks, drumming her fingernails against the table and giving me a sinister grin that causes the hairs on the back of my neck to stand.

"And what would that be?" I ask cautiously, avoiding her sharp gaze.

"Hope."

* * *

 **A/N: Soo, a metric crap-ton of hints dropped in this chapter. Like, seriously, a lot of hints lol. Like, ya know, three of these tributes(plus Cyril) being in last years final eight interviews. . . which I wrote. . . *cough* *cough***

 **Hopefully the rust didn't show too much. . . or the fatigue for that matter, given this was all written late night after a full day of work, classes, studying, and writing a paper. My schedule is hectic right now, but hopefully it straightens out a bit once I get into my groove, and stop having to study Greek for two hours a day because I'm an idiot who thought taking Greek was a good idea.**

 **For now though, updates might slow to just twice a week. I'll try my darnedest to keep them coming as soon as possible though!**

 **We've now seen all 24 tributes, so make sure to PM me or review if you want your tribute to ally with someone. Odds are I'll fulfill your request, unless I already had something planned for them that I really can't change plot-wise.**

 **See you guys hopefully next week, with the goodbyes!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Most surprising info that was revealed this chapter?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite tribute that we were only just now introduced(AKA the 12 that don't get POV- I know we didn't get TOO much on them, but eh)**


	10. A Kept Promise and Final Goodbyes

"A Kept Promise and Final Goodbyes"

* * *

 **A/N: So I changed the format for this chapter because I didn't want y'all waiting forever for this. So there's 6 POVs here, and then next chapter I'll PROBABLY do all of the other 6 POVs, but I also might end up doing 4, and moving the other 2 somewhere else completely(train rides maybe?).**

 **Warnings: Vulgar language. People are stressed yo.**

* * *

 _~Take your time coming home_

 _Hear the wheels as they roll_

 _Let your lungs fill up with smoke_

 _Forgive everyone~_

* * *

 **Hailey Hills, 13, District One**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **Justice Building, District One**

I am a complete fucking idiot. They caught me so off guard by asking me to pick my partner, that I just panicked and. . . oh god, why the hell did I have to choose her? She probably doesn't even remember who the fuck I am, and just thinks I'm some asshole who decided to pick her for no reason. Not like that description is very far off.

I'm just a complete fucking asshole. Just because I'd never in a million years go into the Games with an academy kid doesn't mean that I had to choose her. There's a thousand other people I could of picked instead. People who would have been happy to go into the Games, people who didn't want to but deserved to. . . but instead I chose the one person that deserves it the least.

All because of. . . ugh, I'm so fucking childish.

As the time ticks away, my foot begins to tap faster against the carpeted floor, in sync with the seconds passing by. Ten minutes have already passed by, just five minutes left until I'll be taken out of the district and put on a train. Weird to think how fast things can change.

The door swings open before I'm given any more time to think about that, and I'm immediately on my feet as Joel stomps through the door, looking thoroughly disgruntled and exasperated. "I'm sorry I'm late, I was-"

"I don't care," I cut him off, running into him and throwing my arms around him, my voice just slightly muffled by his shirt.

"Yeah," is all he says in response, awkwardly wrapping an arm around my back and giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

After a while his grip on my shoulder loosens, and I pull back, taking a deep breath as I look up at him, forcing a confident look as I meekly smile. "So. . ." I trail off.

"So," he replies in kind.

"Don't you dare say goodbye," I blurt out suddenly, smile dropping from my lips as I give him a serious look, not giving him any room to argue with me. "Don't cry, or be sad, or tell me that you love me, or that you need me to come home-"

"You're words, not mine," he pokes lightheartedly, flashing a shit-eating grin.

Ignoring his comment with only an acknowledging eye-roll, I quickly tell him, "And don't you _dare_ ask me why I picked that girl. Just. . . _don't_." I stress the words, sincerely hoping that he just drops it, though of course Joel being Joel, he does no such thing.

"Hey, I don't judge," he tells me, throwing his hands up in defense, while at the same time raising an eyebrow and giving me a knowing look. "But that's a pretty strange way to ask out-"

"Okay, I can tell the Peacekeepers to drag you out of here, ya know," I tell him sharply, though as much as I try, a smile still creeps onto my lips. "When I told you to not cry, this isn't what I had in mind."

"Better?"

"Much."

He smiles at this, and slaps me on the back. "To be honest, I'm more worried for the other tributes than I am for you."

"Ugh," I moan, scrunching my nose up. "You know that there are twenty-three other dads saying that exact same thing today, right?'

"Yeah, but the other ones are all just trying to cheer their kid up by lying to themselves. I'm just telling you the truth."

"Well, thanks," I say, shaking my head and rolling my eyes.

"Hey," he tells me, his voice much more low, a serious look as he crouches down to my height, placing his hands on my shoulders and staring me dead in the eye. "I ain't kidding, the reason I'm not getting even a tiny bit sad right now is because I know I'll be seeing you in just a few weeks. You're a fighter, kid, and if you give 'em hell in there, then there's nobody that'll stop you."

I nod my head slowly and surely, feeling confidence bubbling up in me as I straighten up my back, a fire lighting in me as I smirk back at Joel. "I'll give them hell for you, I promise."

"I know you will," he tells me quietly, quirking a smile and glancing down to the ground.

Meanwhile I look past him, to the clock which now shows just one minute left until my goodbyes are over. Quickly turning back to him, I let out a deep breath, letting my eyes slip shut as I think of the weeks ahead of me. And at the same time I think of the life I'll be leaving behind me, and find my skin going cold, a shiver running through my body as a thought hits me, and escapes from my lips in just another moment.

"It can't get any worse, can it?" The question comes out almost pleadingly, and I immediately hate how childish I end up sounding. But still the question remains burning in my mind, aching in my heart, and trembling at my lips as I look at Joel expectantly, for some reason expecting him to have an answer.

"That's the beautiful thing about life kiddo," he tells me with a heavy sigh, ruffling a hand through my hair as he stands back up to his full height, averting his eyes to the opposite side of the room. "It can always get worse."

 **Prestige Freeman, 15, District One**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **Justice Building, District One**

Every single fiber of my being is numb. My body is limp, a rag doll that my friends are reassuringly shaking and slapping. My thoughts are completely blank, an all-encompassing feeling of nothingness overtaking me, leaving me with not a fraction of energy to so much as choke out a word to my 'friends' who came to visit me. As much as I want to be able to just slip an easy smile onto my lips, pretend everything is okay, and tell everyone that I'll be back in a few weeks- I can't find it in me. Not even because I don't have any hope, I just. . . I thought I was safe. I thought I was done. Everything was starting to fall in place so perfectly, it was looking like for once in my shitty life something would go well for me.

But then at the last minute I managed to get fucked over one last time. To say that I'm confused on my feelings towards the girl that picked me is an understatement. I want to fucking hate her, and yank her goddamn hair out the second we step foot onto that train, and cuss her out for being such an awful person and picking me for no reason. Part of me _really_ wants to do that, but at the same time, another part feels queasy at the thought. That part of me is constantly nagging at me, some connection that I haven't made, a memory that I've forgotten, some sort of indescribable feeling that stops me in my tracks, and just leaves me utterly confused.

That girl picked me for a reason, and she looked completely sick to her stomach to do so. . . but why? Why did she pick me and then immediately feel guilty about it afterwards? Why some random girl that she doesn't even know? Further down that line of questioning, how the hell _does_ she know me? As soon as that question is raised, that strange feeling comes rushing back to me, and I'd probably start growling in frustration right now if I wasn't surrounded by my 'supportive' 'friends' all trying to get through to me.

It doesn't take too much longer for everyone to give up, quietly wishing me good luck before stumbling out of the room and leaving me alone. I only get to enjoy the solitude for a second before the door is flung back open, my little sister leading the charge in, with my parents right behind. All of them look hesitant to be here, taking tentative steps towards me and flashing meek, half-hazard smiles.

When I don't respond to them, their smiles all quickly drop, except for Amber, who continues to quickly walk towards me, holding out her arms and wrapping me up in an awkward, one-way hug that she quickly pulls back from. "I'm so sorry you got picked, Pri, you don't deserve to die! I'm gonna miss you!" The words come out sympathetically, but there's still that little bit of passive-aggressiveness hidden behind it, no compliment from Amber ever being possible without an equal amount of shade being thrown in with it. I'm not sure whether to call it a thing every twelve-year-old does, or a little sister thing. Maybe a little bit of both, mixed with a healthy serving of spoiled brat.

Mom and dad don't even go so far as to offer a half-way showing of sympathy, the two both standing silently for a minute before mom motions Amber back to them, and dad offers the reassuring words of: "Goodbye."

None of them even wait for a response, dad leading the way out while mom grabs hold of Amber's hand and tugs her along while she gives me a final wave.

As much as I was wishing to just be alone a few moments ago, there's still a bitter feeling left in my mouth from the exchange. It isn't even the complete lack of faith that my family has in me winning- them not expecting anything out of me is nothing new. It took two years of my coaches pleading with the pair for them to let me drop out of training to focus on soccer, and even then they've downplayed everything I've done at every single turn.

But still, while they may be unsuportive, demeaning, unabashedly preferential towards Amber, and downright negligent most of the time. . . they're still my family. And while I've imagined a million different final goodbyes to them, this one felt. . . incomplete, almost too sudden, and too real. I didn't speak my mind at them, scream or sob at them for how unfair they've been to me, or even just turn my back and confidently walk away to a better life. It's not even an unfulfilling goodbye, where I'm upset or unsatisfied at not getting to say what I wanted to say. I just feel. . . empty.

No matter how much I try to force myself to feel something, every single thought doesn't make a single dent in me, that numbness washing over my entire body. The only thought that can even begin to stir something up in me is Hailey, and that just opens a whole new basket of a wish-washy assortment of mixed feelings that leaves my head spinning.

The door clicks open, Peacekeepers being the ones to walk in the room this time. I force myself to take a deep breath as I shakily go to my feet, giving up on attempting to sort my feelings and just shoving them away. Just keep focusing on one step at a time, and don't worry about anything else. I just have to keep on going, put my nose to the dirt and not give up no matter what, and it'll all get better.

It has to.

 **Cyril Lovelace, 11, District Three**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **Justice Building, District Three**

The Justice Building is a place that I hoped I would never have to visit. Yet here I am, for the second year in a row, locked into this goodbye room with my family all in a stiff, cold silence. Except this time I'm not leaving this room with them. But, that's at least one good thing, right? One silver lining to block out the waves of darkness? But then again, am I really going to be leaving to a place any better than home? As much as I hate it, home has gotta be better than where I'm going, right? I hope not.

Dad isn't even in the room, having a shift right after the reapings that he didn't want to miss. Maybe I'd be upset if I didn't already know that he couldn't care less about me. Honestly, I wish that my family just would've all gone home. My friends are all out there, and if I only have a few minutes left in this district, I want it to be with the only people here that actually care about me.

A surge rises in me, and I sit up just a bit, ready to voice this thought out loud, but one glance at mom sends me sinking back into my seat, head bowed to the ground. She seems to be thinking, her eyes empty as she stares blankly at the wall behind me. Pascal hasn't been mentioned yet, but I'm assuming she got in a fight again with mom and refused to come say goodbye to me with her. Not that Ada is here to support me anymore than Pascal is, just tiredly picking at her fingernails and glancing between mom and I.

Every second seems to tick by like entire ages, every moment another wasted opportunity, another second wasted. But still I keep my lips shut for some unreasonable fear of a person I'm never going to see again in my life, head bowed in shame.

It seems like an eternity passes before the door clicks open, my family's time up as they both give me a hollow goodbye and a meaningless good luck, before calmly leaving, not a single hint of any sort of emotion shown. Just like always. I don't know why I had any sort of hope that things would ever be different. Why I thought that they would actually care enough about me to cry when they know they'll never see me again.

That thought hurts more than I was ready for it to, an aching feeling in my stomach as I bring my legs up to the couch, hugging my knees tightly, pressing them to my chest and burying my head in them. My head shoots up as the door creaks open, quickly dropping my feet to the floor and forcing a wobbly smile onto my lips, attempting to erase any signs of sadness.

I manage to make myself look presentable enough by the time that Endian walks in, not that what I look like at all matters when he can't even see me. But trailing directly behind him is Firefly and Peri, the two directing him in the general direction of me as they all pause at the door awkwardly, nobody seeming to know what to say.

After a minute of thick silence, it's Firefly who's the first one to break the silence, running up and wrapping me in a bone-crushing hug that I'm unable to even return, she's squishing me so hard. "I'm so sorry, Cyril," she tells me, her voice dripping with empathy that I didn't even realize I needed so badly, just a few kind words being the thing that finally breaks me out of my shock, a choked sob escaping as tears begin to fall freely.

In one week, I'm going to be dead. I knew that the second that I was reaped, and as clammy and cold as the thought makes me feel, that didn't even make me sad. It made me feel sick, and defeated, and more scared than I thought was possible. . . but never sad. But the warm feeling that spreads through me as Firefly doesn't drop her bear hug for even a second, even with tears streaming down my cheeks, makes that helpless sorrow overtake every other feeling.

I want to just stay here forever, never leaving this room. It isn't the fact that I'm about to die that makes me want to stay. It's not even that my family doesn't care a single bit about me. It's the people that do care about me that makes it so scary to leave. The aching feeling that I already know will come once I'm away from them, the terrifying voice in my head whispering that I'll never see them again, and that before long I'll be nothing more than a memory to them.

When Firefly finally does pull away, the warmth that I was feeling evaporates with her, left in a bitter cold that makes my entire body shiver. Firefly just offers me a sad smile, patting me on the shoulder. "You can win, Cyril, I know you can!" Even she doesn't seem to believe what she's saying, trying to convince herself more than me.

Endian opens his mouth, seeming like he wants to add something, but quickly clamps his mouth shut. Probably trying to think of something encouraging to tell me, and realizing there is nothing. There isn't a single thing special about me. Not one little piece of me that's better than everyone else that will be in the Games with me. I'm just a stupid, clumsy kid that will probably die in the bloodbath and be forgotten about.

Firefly seems to sense what I'm thinking, a sympathetic look falling over her as she gives me one more quick hug, leaning into my ear and whispering, "Please come home."

She pulls away immediately after that, the sound of the door opening causing everybody to jump. Peacekeepers march into the room, ready to take me away. A soft, pathetic sound rises from my throat, and Firefly spares me one last sad look before glumly turning away, the three of them being forcefully ushered out as my body begins to shake.

That was it. Firefly's words are still ringing in my head, the last words that someone who actually cares about me will say. She's gone now, just a memory. All of them are. Endian, Firefly, Peri. . . even my family, all just thoughts and words and sketchy memories. I'll never feel Firefly hugging me again, never talk to any of them, never even see them. Even just a few seconds later I'm already struggling to put together a perfect picture of them in my mind.

In just a week I'll be dead, and I'm already fading.

 **McKenna "Kenzie" Bay, 17, District Four**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **Justice Building, District Four  
**

I'm still in a bit of shock. While I'm by no means upset to be going into the Games(I'm actually pretty excited that I'm actually getting the chance), I didn't expect to be chosen this year. Especially not by Merrium Solera. Just the fact that she decided to choose me leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth. Knowing her, the only reason she would possibly choose me is if she knows something that I don't, and intends on somehow using that against me. If she thinks she can outsmart me though, she's in for a rude awakening.

My friends just got done saying goodbye to me, and already I'm shifting myself away from the lighthearted mood I was just in. Erased from my entire being is the giggly, bubbly jokester. From here on out the Games have already started, and I can't let anything get in my way. I need to be laser focused, starting from the second that I step out of this room. There's no room for error in the Games.

The next person to step into the room is no surprise, a wistful smile on my grandma's lips as she calmly sits beside me, wraps an arm around my shoulder, and plants a kiss on my forehead. "I don't even know what to say," she says. "I can't believe my little Kenzie is going into the Games."

"I'm not a kid anymore, grandma," I tell her with a steady voice, having said these exact words more times than I can count. "I'm more than ready for the Games."

"Oh, I know you are," she waves off dismissively. "There's nobody else in the country I'd trust more, and I'm glad that you were chosen, you certainly deserve it." She pauses for a moment, that wistful smile back in place. "But that doesn't mean that I can't still be sad to see my granddaughter growing up."

I don't reply to that, quirking a half-smile and straightening my back, continuing to mentally prepare myself for the fast approaching train rides. There's the question of whether or not to train separately, which mentor to choose, and all sorts of preparation that I would've made if it seemed like I was actually going into the Games. I'm already so far behind, I need every moment I have to get back on track.

" _Kenzie_ ," my grandma's voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I raise an eyebrow at the stress she puts on my nickname. She doesn't pay me any mind though, continuing to talk as if I hadn't raised any objection. "Once you get in the Games. . . remember who you are. I know you have it in you to win, but. . . please," she gives me a hard look, and even though I know where she's going, I make sure to hold onto every word she's saying, knowing how important it is to her that I do. "I don't want this to be the last time I see my little Kenzie."

This actually manages to get a slight smile out of me, and I slowly and surely not my head, not wanting to let my grandma down. And I'm not worried that I will. I've always been able to keep my work and my life separate, and the Games will be no different. I'll do what I need to do in the arena, and once I'm done, I'll still be able to switch make to the fun-loving, goofy, bubbly Kenzie that's still just a kid. I always have been able to, and I always will.

Grandma, as much as she tries to show otherwise, looks less convinced than I do. "I trust you, Kenzie. I'll see you real soon."

She leaves soon after that, and I'm lost in my planning again, though my thoughts quickly shift away from the Games, and instead to the one person who didn't show up to say goodbye to me. As much as I attempt to block him from my thoughts, or reason with myself that he's irrelevant, he keeps on creeping back into the forefront of my mind. That perfect image of that perfect day implanted into my memories, always sneaking its way into my thoughts whenever I finally begin to think I've gotten over him.

Grandma's words ring in my ears, and with one last thought of that warm, happy moment with Everette, I push it away. Kenzie will come out of these Games, but until then I don't have time to be a kid. I don't have time for friends, or romance, or that annoying bubbly feeling that hurts like hell to ignore whenever I push Everette away. Once I'm done with the Games, everything will be different. I can do whatever I want, be whoever I want. But for now that side of me has to go away, and stay locked in the furthest depths of my mind.

I just need to stay focused for a few weeks, and everything will be perfect.

 **Levi Ezra, 17, District Five**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **Justice Building, District Five**

I've always been one to live in the moment. It's gotten me into trouble more than a few times, but in the end I wouldn't trade away my impulsiveness even if I had the chance. For all the injuries and lectures it's gotten me, it's also made for some of the greatest memories of my life. Sometimes you just have to take a deep breath and do something that absolutely terrifies you, knowing that it's for the best in the end.

I still stand firm that this is one of those examples. While having to wish my friends and parents goodbye will hurt like hell, and it may be selfish of me to make them have to go through this, at least it's some sort of closure. Some semblance of an ending, a chance to have my final words to them on my own terms. Sure, it was a stupid decision, and I'm probably going to regret it ten times over within the next week, but right now I'm happy.

I just wish I could say the same was true for Sky. When she comes into the room she's a complete mess, her hair sprawled across her face, her breath ragged, and tears staining her cheeks. She's clutching onto Sarah, who is practically holding her up by herself, the only one with a calm expression out of the bunch, giving me a genuinely reassuring smile. Luxana looks to be struggling to stay calm, biting at her nails, while Rickey just looks in total shock, his gaze blank as he walks in the room, hand in hand with Luxana.

"Levi. . . ." Sky is the first one to speak, but seems unable to get anything else out aside from my name, shaking her head and just choking out a pained sound.

And there's the guilt. I knew it would be coming, but even that didn't prepare me for the tears welling up in Sky's eyes, or the look of total betrayal and hurt that she sends me. If I would have known I was going to go to the Games, I would have told her, but I didn't. That little girl just seemed so sad, and it got me thinking. . . and well, I couldn't really think of many reasons to not stop another kid from going to the Capitol this year. Not like there's much more left for me anyways. I probably won't even make it into the arena.

Sarah seems to be the only other person who realizes this thought process, placing an arm on my shoulder and memorizing my face for a long moment before pulling me in for a light hug. "I'm gonna miss you, you big 'ol dork," she whispers.

"I'll miss you too," I tell her softly, meaning it wholeheartedly. Rickey is my first and oldest friend, and Sky is my girlfriend, but Sarah and I have a special relationship. Everyone always jokes that she's like a clone of me, and it really is true. Even now she's the only person who really understands me, and always seems to know exactly what to say to me, knows exactly what I'm thinking at every moment. Going without her, even if just for one week, is gonna hurt like hell.

By the time she pulls back everyone else seems to have calmed down at least a little bit, except for Sky, who's still just as much a mess as before. Without Sarah to cling to, her entire body is shaking, and as soon as Sarah pulls away she's leaping into my arms, pressing her forehead to my shoulder. "Why Levi? We still had time. I _needed_ that time."

The guilt comes back in force, and I'm glad that she's sobbing into my shoulder right now, because I don't think I could look her in the eyes if she weren't. "I'm sorry Sky, but. . . like you said, it's all borrowed time from now on out. I'm supposed to _die_ today, and even if I don't, every single day I'm going to spend every single second wondering if it'll be my last. I. . . I just want to be able to say goodbye. I want to be able to at least make one good thing out of me dying, save at least one kid, hell, maybe even help a scared little kid that needs someone who cares about them."

There's a million more words I want to say, a thousand ways to explain why I decided to volunteer, but I leave it at that as her sobs fade, and her head lifts up, those watery brown eyes wobbling as they blink up at me like a lost, terrified little kid. "It isn't fair," she whines.

"I know," is all I tell her, wrapping her back up in a hug, softly rubbing her back and letting my eyes drift shut. Fairness isn't a thing I think about very often, mainly because in the end, I think it all balances out. I've seen old, grumpy men who never crack a smile and are completely alone their entire life. I may not get to grow old, but at least I can say without a doubt in my mind that I wouldn't change a single moment of my entire life. Every single year, month, day, second: all completely perfect. What more can I really ask for?

I don't say this out loud though, knowing that I'd probably jumble and rush my thoughts and it would come out ugly and insincere. Instead my hands shakily reach into my pocket and pull out a crumpled, folded up slip up paper, notes messily jotted across the page. It's a total, unruly mess, but I think it's pretty fitting. My life hasn't exactly been neat and tidy, so why should my last words be?

"I. . . wrote this a couple of weeks ago, just in case. . . I never got to say goodbye." I quirk a reassuring smile as I hand the note to Sky, her hands greedily snatching the note from me and clutching onto it. She doesn't look down to read it though, those bright brown eyes still bearing into mine as she swallows a lump in her throat, a shaky smile forming on her lips as she clasps onto my hand.

"I'll never forget you," she tells me in a pained voice that barely reaches a whisper. Her eyes are still watery, but she looks much more calm now, staring into my eyes intently, photographing my image, the last time she ever sees me.

Even though my forever will be much shorter than hers, I do the same, imprinting those large, light and bright brown doe eyes into the blueprint of my mind. The time is ticking away quickly now, and I know that we only have a few more moments together, just a few more words before we're ripped apart for eternity. It seems like it should be a daunting task, but the words come to me easily, slipping out of my lips with as little hesitation as any other words I've ever said.

"I love you."

She seems to be struggling to hold back tears again, holding a hand over her mouth as she lets out a soft, pained noise. Her eyes slam shut with a heavy breath, only to shutter open a moment later, nodding her head quickly and squeezing onto my hand, the tiniest hint of a smile back onto her lips, her voice rising to a soft, content whisper.

"I love you."

 **Blaze Colton, 21, District Twelve**

 **May 25th, Year 101**

 **Justice Building, District Twelve**

It's hard to keep my anger at bay. Honestly, a small part of me doesn't even want to try. That little piece of me wants to just let loose and give in to every shitty emotion I feel. But that rational side of my head keeps me from going berserk, the thought of June keeping me calm. I have to stay calm, if not for my own chances of winning, then for her.

When she runs into the room, it gets hard to stay calm again. She isn't crying, she always has been tough, but tears are welling up in her eyes and I can tell that she wants to. "You have to win, promise me that you're coming home!" Her voice is desperate as she grips onto my hands, staring up at me with pleading eyes.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I pull her in for a tight hug, closing my eyes and forcing myself to keep my breath calm. "Don't you worry about me, I'll be alright."

"Blaze," she quivers out, pulling back and looking at me harshly through tear-stained eyes. "Promise me." The words come out as a command, that same desperation still there.

Something in me stops me from being able to promise her though. Maybe it's some sort of memory from Ace's goodbyes that I'm still clinging to, maybe I just don't want to make a promise that I know I can't keep. Whatever the reason though, the words just won't come out. So instead I do my best to divert her attention.

"Hey, look at it this way," I nudge her. "You're gonna write one hell of a report now, might even win the whole thing."

She seems about as happy about that comment as I expected, a dreadful look as she chokes out a sob, furiously shaking her head. "I'm not writing that stupid paper."

"June," I tell her seriously, lowering my voice and crouching down to make eye-contact, placing my hands on her shoulders. "You gotta look for the silver lining here, there's nothing you can do to stop me from going to the Games, but you can at least make something good come out of it."

She bites her lip, averting her gaze to the ground. "It doesn't feel right."

I quirk a smile at that, ruffling my hand through her hair. "Remember what I told you yesterday, as long as you're happy, I'm happy."

"But I'm not happy!" She bursts, her eyes dry but still glossy. "How am I supposed to be happy when you're going into the Hunger Games? You always act like I should be happy just because something good happens to me, and not care about you!" She buries her face into my shoulder, her next words muffled by the rough fabric of my shirt. "I don't want to win a stupid contest, I just want my brother."

My heart splinters in half, jagged edges sending sharp pains in my chest as I slowly and carefully place a hand on June's back. I'm at a complete loss for words. All of my comforting sayings and heartfelt reassurances all come down to exactly what she just said. I really do just want her to be happy no matter what, but if the only way for that to be possible is for me to win the Games. . . I'm not sure if I can promise that. It isn't that I don't want to win, or I don't think that I can. But I've heard an empty promise from someone going to the Games before, and that fake reassurance only makes it hurt all the more when they don't come back. Having that hope completely shattered hurt me like nothing else in my life has, and I can't make June go through that too, no matter how terrible I feel right now for not being able to.

"Blaze," she starts, immediately cut off as the door slams open, two Peacekeepers storming into the room and marching to June.

I jump to my feet as they grab onto her arms when she refuses to leave, but the pleading look in her eyes stops me in my tracks, my fists clenched so hard the nails are digging into my palms and nearly drawing blood.

June just gives me a small, sad smile. "Please come back," she begs.

A small smile quirks onto my lips for a split-second, before her body disappears out of view, the door slamming shut and leaving me in a brooding silence, anger still flowing through my veins. The rage is so strong that I can feel it pulsating through my bones, a throbbing headache of untamed fiery, all barely contained inside me as only June's words in my mind manage to keep it in.

Just one more week, and then I can let it all out. While I may not be able to promise June that I'm going to win, I can promise myself. The other tributes don't matter. I _will_ make it home, whatever it takes.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Anyways, sorry for this taking so long (even by my standards lol), it's not that I have ZERO time to write, it's just that work and school have left me sort of drained, and whenever I do try to sit down to write, most of the time the writing ends up being super emotionless and just sort of bad and I'm just sitting there wishing that I was out with my friends instead. I have break next week though, so we're gonna start pumping out chapters soon!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite goodbye scene?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Which of the districts are you most looking forward to seeing the train rides of?**


	11. Trains: Empty Cold and Burning Fire

_"Empty Cold and Burning Fire_ _"_

* * *

 **A/N: So due to this being super late(work and school murders me, and I'm taking 2 more classes next semester+taking a leadership role at work so don't expect it to get any better lol), I've changed up the format just a tiny bit. Instead of 6 train rides here, we have 2 tributes with POV, and 1 mentor POV. We'll eventually get a POV from all mentors, and the 4 tributes who haven't gotten their second POV yet will get it sometime soon in the pre-games(probably either train rides or chariot rides). It may start to seem like some tributes are getting more attention, but I have it all planned out that each tribute will get 3 pre-games POVs, some are just more front-loaded than others. With all that out there, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter, and that the wait was worth it!**

 **Warning: Suicidal thoughts.**

* * *

 _~When she was just a girl she expected the world_

 _But it flew away from her reach_

 _So she ran away in her sleep~_

* * *

 **Sigma Krell, 9, District Five**

 **Friday, May 25th, Year 101**

 **Train Station, District Five**

Everything feels so cold. I don't know whether it's the cool breeze that sends chills down to my bone, and causes the hairs on the back of my neck to tingle. The older boy, Levi, is shaking as he jumps up and down anxiously, but something about the way he hugs onto his shoulders just a bit too tightly tells me it isn't from the cold. The distant look in his eyes as his mouth hangs just slightly open with each heavy gulp of air he takes is. . . off.

Nobody came to say goodbye to me. I'm not sure if I really expected anybody to, either. I know that at least somebody came to visit Levi, so I don't understand why he looks so haughty and empty. He had friends, family, people who care about him come to cheer him up and be with him, shouldn't he be happy? I try my best to put myself in his shoes, but every time I picture Theta walking into that cold, empty room, I feel a bittersweet aching in my heart.

I would give anything to get to say goodbye. If I had to choose between getting to go back to my normal life or having the chance to have just a few more minutes with Theta to say goodbye. . . I would take that chance in a heartbeat. Instead though, I get neither. Nothing to numb the cold bitterness that fills me up, freezing the thin statue of a person that I am, just waiting for the breeze to knock me over and shatter me into a million pieces.

Is it bad I'm not even scared of the Games right now? The kids who get reaped almost always cry, and the ones who don't are usually just pretending to be tough when they're really just as scared on the inside. Even the boy that wanted to go into the Games looks scared right now, his breath shallow and ragged, his foot quickly tapping against the cement.

"So," the boy's voice comes out shallow, shaky, and with an obviously fake half-smile. "How are you holdin' up?"

I don't know if he really expected an answer, or if he was just trying to fill the silence that we've been in for the past minute, but either way I don't respond. This boy can try to act like he cares about how I'm doing all he wants, but I know that he really doesn't. Nobody does.

He shuffles his feet awkwardly once he realizes I'm not going to reply, and flashes me a reassuring smile before going back to staring ahead blankly, hands still having a death clutch on his shoulders.

I avert my eyes to the ground, copying his gesture as I hug myself tightly, attempting to stem off the bitter cold feeling in my chest. My breathing is slow and heavy, my eyes drifting shut as I let my mind go wild, just wanting to imagine myself anywhere but here. Anywhere else but alone in a cold, concrete room surrounded by Peacekeepers, waiting for a train to come and take me away to the Games.

But while my mind takes me out of this room, I can't help but let my thoughts drift to the next week. To being on stage in front of every single person in the world. The thought sends a sharp pain to my heart, and I gasp as I blink my eyes open, ashamedly forcing my gaze away from the concerned look of Levi. I hate that stupid look. That sad, sympathetic look that he keeps giving me, like I'm some helpless, hopeless little girl that he feels bad for. Just an object, a little girl that's going to die, that he _has_ to feel bad for. That little girl that everyone will just say 'aw, that's too bad,' when she dies, and then forget about her the next minute because they never actually cared.

"Hey," a nudge on my shoulder sends me jumping backwards, a squeak rising from my throat as I clutch onto my shoulders, my nails digging into the fabric of my shirt. It takes me a long moment to realize that it was Levi who tapped me, and he looks a mixture of sorry and surprised, his hands held in the air as he gives me a sympathetic look. "Sorry," he says in a low, genuine voice, motioning his head to the left. "The train is here."

I quickly nod my head, slowly shuffling back over to my spot, avoiding his gaze, that sad look just getting even stronger than before. That stupid, fake look that he's just giving to make himself feel better. To make himself not feel so guilty when he kills me in the bloodbath, because it isn't so bad if you at least pretended you care, is it?

The shock that was overriding my systems is gone, replaced again with that empty bitterness, and I don't even glance up from the ground when the train door opens. Two people step out, and I immediately feel all sets of eyes falling on me, my cheeks burning red as I harshly bite my cheek, gaze staying burned harshly to the concrete.

I let out an audibly deep breath once I feel their eyes fall from me, and glance up to see the three all glancing wearily at each other. Aside from Levi, there's also the other two people from the reaping, the strange looking man that called out my name, and a girl Levi's age who is nervously chewing on a strand of hair, switching her gaze from me to the ground the moment I glance at her.

After a while of awkward silence, it's finally the girl who breaks it, giving a hesitant smile as she motions to the open door behind her. "S-so, uh, come on. . . in." She stutters out the words, her teeth chattering and her fingernails digging into her palms. Oddly enough, something about her nervousness actually makes me relax a bit, my shoulders slumping down as I'm the first one to step forward.

The girl gives me a thankful, relieved smile as she leads me in through the door, keeping herself an arm's reach away, flashing a smile to the escort as he walks over to Levi, walking beside him as the two trail behind me.

As soon as I step into the train, any thoughts of the three people around me disappear, my mouth hanging open as my breath is taken from me. I have to rub my eyes to make sure that I'm not just imagining it, but even then I know that it isn't a dream, because there's no way I could ever even _imagine_ something as amazing as this. I don't even have the words to describe it, it's just. . . amazing. The wooden floorboards, velvet red chairs, rich green sofas, everything about it just looks so comfy and warm. Any feeling of coldness that I tracked in from outside evaporates, that all-encompassing warmth overtaking me as I slowly step towards one of the wooden tables, running my hand along the smooth edges, expecting my hand to go straight through it and find out none of this is real.

"You like it?" The girl asks quietly, her eyes wide and her smile so genuinely happy that I can't stop it from spreading to me as well, a tiny hint of a smile creeping onto my lips as I give a small, slow nod.

"It always makes me feel comfy when I'm in here," she tells me with a sigh, eyes going blank for a moment before they land back on me, that warm smile still in place.

The loud, booming laugh of Levi startles me, jumping into the air as Levi and the escort animatedly chat back and forth, Levi's loud laugh interrupting the conversation every few seconds. The sound of his laugh freezes me up, that same exact sound echoing in my memories. I don't even try to stop the flood of thoughts that rushes my mind, my heart aching as Theta's image fills my brain, that same stupidly loud laugh that pops your eardrums and leaves you rolling your eyes.

The burning in my heart melts away at me, feeling so much worse than any bitter coldness ever could. Tears sting at me eyes, and I quickly blink them away, forcing my eyes away from the duo and back to the nice girl, who is watching the pair with a wistful smile. Her look quickly changes once she sees me though, her expression falling as she crouches to the ground and gives me a sad, half smile that wordlessly seems to say 'I know.'

But she doesn't. She doesn't know what it's like to have the only person you care about stripped away from you. Nobody knows how hopeless it feels when your entire world is gone, just a ghost in an empty shadow left behind for you to aimlessly wander through. To spend every second of every day wishing you were somewhere else, someone else, but knowing that there's nowhere and nobody out there that could ever really make you happy. That the one person in my entire life decided he didn't want to be in this world.

There's no hope that I'll see him again, no wishes or naivety. He's gone, and even worse, he _wanted_ to be gone. . . and now a part of me wants to be too. I want to just be able to close my eyes and never come back to this world, to just live with my head in the clouds forever and never come down. Why would I want to? There's nothing, nowhere, nobody here for me. If it can't get any worse than here, why shouldn't I just pretend to be somewhere else? _Anywhere_ else?

"Who did you lose?" The girl's voice is gentle and quiet as she looks at me with a sickeningly sympathetic look, seeming like she's in pain to even ask me the question.

The tears in my eyes are finally gone, and I develop a bitter look as I simply shake my head, eyes staring down harshly at the ground, that harsh burning in my chest surrounded by that same cold, numb feeling returning to every inch of my body, icicles prickling against the inside of my skin.

A raging fire and an empty cold, swirling together and clashing, burning down and refreezing my insides as they twist and knot, a feeling that isn't pain or hurt or anything that I can ever even describe. So even as the girl looks at me with pleading eyes and a soft voice asking me to tell her what's wrong, my lips stay shut, my fingers desperately clutching onto my shoulders, squeezing and clinging on for my life.

Just waiting for the breeze to come and knock me over, and end it for good.

 **Rain Kaniff, 8, District Six**

 **Friday, May 25th, Year 101**

 **Train Station, District Six**

To say I'm anxious is an understatement. Every single week for an hour I've gotten to talk to my dad, so it isn't like I've never seen him, but something about it is always. . . different, incomplete. There's something missing when the only way we can see each other is in a dark room through a fence, without even being able to so much as touch his hand. Every time we talk there's a guard in the room watching us, listening to everything we say. This is the first time we'll ever get to just be. . . an actual family, almost. If it takes going into the Games for that to happen, well, then I guess there's always worse things that could happen, right?

I don't want the answer to that question, perfectly content in my silver lining that I've found, clinging to that bit of hope, shifting my anxiety into a bubbly, excited feeling. Any thoughts of the sad words or confused looks of my friends are gone, all attention on the wall of Peacekeepers approaching me near the entrance to the train.

Even though it doesn't do a lick of helping, I can't help but stand on my tip-toes, inching myself up in a useless attempt to peek over them and see my dad. My heart is racing at a mile a minute, and I'm shoving away bad thoughts as they pop up. Any lingering fears or worries are tossed away, forcing that smile onto my lips as I think happy thoughts, honing in on that one bit of happiness.

The moment the Peacekeepers part, dad comes running out from them, barreling towards me and squeezing me in for a hug so fast I don't even manage to get a glance at him. I'm up in the air, pressed so tightly against his chest that I can hardly breathe, but I don't say a thing, not wanting to ruin this moment. I'm getting to see my dad, for real, for the first time since. . . since. . . .

I shake that thought out of my head, ignoring the shiver that runs through my body as dad places me back on the ground, his eyes twinkling as they brightly shine with hints of tears. His whole body seems to be shaking, disbelief spread across his expression as he continues to just look at me, seemingly memorizing this image.

"Hi dad," I stammer out, sticking my thumbs in my pockets and quirking a smile.

"Hey Rain," he breathes out, a choked laughter escaping from him as he brings his fist to his mouth, biting back tears.

The whole moment just seems surreal, an impossible moment that I always knew was going to happen eventually, but just seems so. . . crazy to have be actually happening. I keep on expecting to wake up, and I'm not totally sure if that would be a good or bad thing. Looking at dad right now, and feeling the all-encompassing warmth around me, I just want this to last forever, but at the same time, I know that it won't. In one week we'll be in the Hunger Games, and I'm not sure if seven days can ever make up for that.

That's not a question I have to answer right now though, sent out of my thoughts by a loud coughing noise, both dad and I snapping our heads to the source of the noise to find our victor Atlas Hall staring at us with an unreadable expression.

"Hi," I offer up after a moment of silence, waving cheerily and giving him a friendly grin. He's our mentor after all, so I should do my best to be friendly towards him, lord knows dad probably won't.

He doesn't respond to my cheeriness in kind, keeping that blank expression as he glances between the two of us for a solid moment before deeply sighing, massaging his temple. "Come on in to the train, we've gotta talk."

As he turns and walks back through the door, dad mutters, "so much for a friendly introduction."

I hit him lightly, rolling my eyes as the two of us follow after him. " _Dad_ ," I mutter quietly.

A small smile creeps onto his lips as he ruffles my hair. "Sorry."

I start to come up with a cheeky response, but stop dead in my tracks as I walk into the train, my breath leaving me as I stare slack-jawed around the room. The Justice Building is fancy and all, but this. . . this is something else. I didn't even realize this much fancy could exist, everything looks so perfect that I'm not sure I even want to touch the room, afraid that I'm somehow going to ruin it.

Atlas lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. "Look, I know you guys are overwhelmed and amazed right now, but I _really_ need to speak with you two. _Now_."

"That's okay," I breathe out, giggling in amazement as I spare one last glance to the room before turning to face him.

He adopts that unreadable expression again, taking in a deep breath as he nods his head. "Yeah," he says quietly, turning away from us and hurriedly pulling out three seats at a wooden dining table empty of anything but glasses of water.

I reach my hand out as the two of us begin to follow, squeezing dad's hand when he finds it, holding tightly and not wanting to ever have to let go. There's a warm feeling in my stomach I get that I want to never have to lose, that I never realized even existed I had gone so long without it, and if that means I have to never let him go again, then so be it.

Once the two of us are sitting down, Atlas props his elbows up on the table, chin rested on top of his extended thumbs as he stares us down analytically. "Simple question, do you want to win?"

Dad scoffs, "Of cou-"

"No," Atlas holds up a hand, staring dad down sternly. "Let me say it again. Do. You. Want. To. Win." There's a certain emphasis that he puts on this, and I get the sneaky feeling they're trying to talk about something without having to have me hear about it. A part of me knows that I shouldn't try to figure it out, and just let them talk about whatever they want to talk about, but still another part of me hates to be left in the dark about things. I may be a kid, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid, or naive, or innocent about what's going on. They shouldn't treat me like I'm just a baby they have to take care of.

Dad seems to catch the true meaning this time, leaning forward with a look of raw determination as he meets Atlas' gaze. "I'll do anything to make sure she gets to go home."

"We get home," I correct him in my most serious tone, earning an odd look from both of them. "I'm not letting you die for me," I tell him in a shaky voice. "We're gonna both win, right?" That last bit comes off more hopeful and wishing than it does forceful, but I still stand firmly by it, not backing down from either of their gazes.

The two both exchange a glance, and dad pats me on the knee, giving me a wistful smile. "We'll do our best."

"You better," I tell him quietly, and he quirks a half smile before looking back to Atlas and giving him a look that I don't catch the meaning of.

Atlas just nods his head, then lets out a deep sigh as he looks down to his lap. "One more thing I need to know, and I need to know an honest answer here. If I'm gonna get you two home, there can't be any secrets between us, got it?" He waits for the two of us to both nod, dad taking just a moment longer than I do. Once we both do though, he nods as well, taking a deep breath and turning to me. "Rain, why is your dad in prison?"

The question takes me by surprise, eyes widening in shock as my legs immediately turn to jello, wobbling underneath the table as I shift under the shared gaze of Atlas and my dad, who looks sick to his stomach as he looks at me with a pale face and a guilty expression. I feel just a hint of anger at Atlas for the question, not just for how it makes my dad feel to have to go through this, but for the way he asked it. He doesn't really want us to all know the truth, he just wants to see how much of the truth I know.

A part of me wants to tell the truth. I did agree that we should all be honest, and he's right that he can't really help us if he doesn't really know, but still. . . just one look at my dad makes the thought of revealing what I know make me sick. Dad's hand is slick with sweat in my hand, and I can already feel his grip loosening, his connection with me already teetering on the balance.

I love my dad, and I always will. I could never blame him for anything that he did that wasn't his fault. That tiny fragment of a memory still stays in my mind from that night, and it's enough for me to know that what happened wasn't him. It was something awful, horrible, and something that will never come back again. I've forgiven my dad. . . but I don't know if he's forgiven himself.

I take a deep breath, giving a hesitant glance to the two of them before landing my gaze firmly on my dad, giving him a small, reassuring smile. "I don't care what he did, I love him, and that's all that matters." The words aren't at all a lie, even if I don't really answer the question, but it does what I hoped it would.

Both Atlas and dad seem to visibly relax, Atlas chugging back a long drink of water while dad squeezes my hand, a thankful look washing over his expression that I do my best to pretend I don't notice.

"Alright then," Atlas breathes out, glancing between us two one more time and offering a tentative nod to the two of us. "Then let's get to work winning this thing."

 **Melody Chiss, 30, District One Mentor**

 **Friday, May 25th, Year 101**

 **Bullet Train, North of the Capitol**

In my tenure of mentoring, I've seen a few tributes that just wouldn't get along. Heck, my first year mentoring I had Gal, and while I love him to death, getting along with others isn't one of his specialties. Divisive personalities are an obviously common trait in a Career district, especially one that's academies are modeled after Galavant's victory.

But this is a whole separate level. Glory and Aurelia are making casual small talk back and forth, neither wanting to let silence fall over the table, while our two tributes look to be in polar opposite emotions than they were at the reaping and just after their goodbyes. Both of them stormed off to their rooms right away, and now apparently with that alone time have become entire new people.

Hailey's hand shakes as she struggles to bring a spoonful of soup up to her lips, eyes dodging away from Prestige's harsh glare. Aside from shooting daggers at Hailey, Prestige is ripping apart a piece of bread, tossing chunks into her mouth, refusing to break her glare from Hailey. Glory is making attempts to talk to the two, but both of them are stuck in their own place, oblivious to the outside world except for each other.

It's not so much that I didn't expect some serious tension after this twist, but this is much more than I was ready for. Both Gal and I are seated on opposite sides of the table, watching Prestige for any signs of her anger boiling over, the two of us ready to step in and stop any attempted attacks.

"Hm," Aurelia snaps her fingers, holding up a hand as she finishes swallowing a bite of food. "The recap should be on just about now, how about we all watch that and see the competition?"

I jump to chime in with agreement, but before I get the chance, Prestige jumps the gun. "Already on it," she mutters bitterly, somehow managing to harshen her glare at Hailey, who actually looks genuinely hurt by the comment, guiltily staring down at her lap.

The rest of us all shift uncomfortably at the comment, except for Gal, who of course is barely holding in laughter, biting down on his fist as he glances between the pair. "So," he chokes out in an awkward half laugh that he poorly attempts to disguise as a cough, earning sharp glares from both girls. "What, uh," he motions to the two with his fork, "what's the story here exactly?"

"Galavant," Aurelia hushes him, slapping him on the shoulder.

"What?" He murmurs, rubbing his shoulder. "We're all wondering it."

"It's okay," Prestige answers with a surprising calm, averting her eyes from Hailey for the first time all dinner and towards Gal. "I think that's a _great_ question." And with that the threatening gaze is back, Hailey's face quickly switching from momentary confusion back to her old embarrassed guilt.

The room falls back into silence for a minute, though this time it isn't allowed to simmer in it, Prestige's anger bubbling up past its boiling point as she jumps to her feet. "Well?!" She demands, pointing an accusing finger at Hailey. "Do you have any reason for why you picked me? Or did you just think I had a funny sounding name?" If it's possible for a person to look any more guilty than Hailey does right now, I'd certainly like to see it. The girl's face is flushed red, her eyes burnt that same red color before she covers them with her hands, head bowed downwards. This just seems to enrage Prestige more, though, letting out a muted scream as she kicks back her chair with shocking force, the wood cracking as it goes flying backwards. "What the FUCK is wrong with you?"

Galavant pops out of his chair at that, but instead of attempting to calm down Prestige instead heads over to Hailey, quickly motioning to me with his eyes to deal with the girl who looks just a tick away from leaping over the table to murder her district partner. Thanks, Gal. Leave me with the blood-boiling girl on the verge of a breakdown with an iron foot.

Thankfully, while Prestige doesn't calm down, she does manage to stop herself from getting into a fight before we even get to the Capitol, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides while I quickly hobble over with my crutches, offering up my best calming smile. Gal meanwhile taps Hailey on the shoulder and quickly leads her out of the room, whispering some words into her ear that somehow manage to instantly relax the girl. While he may have a bit of a trouble with keeping his trap shut sometimes, Gal does manage to have a way with words that I wish I could possess a fraction of. It would sure by nice to have some sort of clue of what to say to the steaming girl in front of me to keep her from going on a murderous rampage, but for some reason I'm failing to come up with anything.

Luckily, I don't have to be the first one to speak.

"It isn't fair," Prestige mutters, venom and burning hatred still in her voice, but also something softer, gentler there as well. Even her eyes have begun to dim, the fiery rage replaced by a more mellow plain.

"It sucks," I agree, reaching over and patting her on the shoulder, taking a seat just as she collapses back into an empty chair. "Trust me, Glory and I both know exactly what you're going through."

Glancing over, Glory quickly nods at that, offering a meek, reassuring smile. Prestige doesn't seem to so much as hear the words though, falling back into an empty shock as she shakes her head glumly. "I was so close," she whispers in a voice dripping with so much hurt that it burns at my heart. "Why would she take that away from me?"

"You were so close to what?" I ask her gently.

"To getting away," she replies in a low, wobbly voice. She seems like she wants to say more than that, but when she opens her mouth, the only thing that comes out is a muted sob, and then there's nothing left to stop the tears from falling. A whole afternoon of pent up emotions, bottling them up and forcing them away only for it all to blow up and all come out at once. In a moment any hesitations towards the girl's anger problems are gone, motherly instincts kicking in as I wrap an arm around her shoulder, letting her lean into me as the tears come pouring out in ugly, choked out sobs.

It only takes her a few moments to give up on fighting it, and from there her head slides down, not even bothering to cover up her eyes as the tears stream down her cheeks, pained gasps of air as her chests rises and falls sporadically. Looking down at Prestige now, head sinking down to my lap as another round of sobs hits her, she looks like a completely different person. She's not an angry tribute, a problem that I'll have to deal with. She's a scared little kid, who's tried so hard to bottle everything up inside of her without realizing that she can't stop it from exploding. She's an exposed, helpless kid that is terrified that her life is about to be over. She's the type of kid that I had hoped I would never have to mentor in a Career district.

Because looking down at Prestige right now, tears pooling over and beginning to stain her cheeks, her whole body shaking with each pained breathe she takes, I feel a fire burning inside of me that I've never felt before. A raging wildfire that scorches my insides, twisting them and squeezing at my heart with each beat, pumping through my veins and filling me with a drive that I never thought I had in me.

She can't be another number. I won't let her be another name on the long list of casualties, one more tally mark among thousands. I've brought home five tributes now, much more than most could ever hope for, but right now none of that matters. All that I care about is right here, right now, I need this one last one.

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 **A/N: You know that you're writing too much angst when your music playlist is just 'concrete angel', 'you had a bad day', and 'you are my sunshine' on loop.**

 **While you should take this with a grain of salt with my current track record of following through with plans, I hope to have the other train ride chapter out next weekend at the latest, as we visit Clyde and Galavant.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite POV?**

 **Alliances(only updated with confirmed, on-screen alliances)**

 **Ghosts:** Clyde, Rain


	12. Aim and Ignite

"Aim and Ignite"

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 **A/N: Well, I sort of lied, but in a good way. This chapter we're gonna have 3 POVs, with Galavant(D1 mentor), Picaboo(D10 tribute), and Tristan(D12 mentor) getting the final 3 train ride POVs+a mini reaping-recap**

 **Warning: Very vulgar language in Galavant's POV. Both him and Hailey are vulgar people, and I don't tend to be one to tone down swearing too much.**

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~Yeah take me to the top, I'm ready for

Whatever it takes~

* * *

 **Galavant Redding, 31, District One Mentor**

 **Friday, May 25th, Year 101**

 **Bullet Train, North of the Capitol**

The second that the door to the room closes, any calamity is erased from her features. "It's fucking bullshit," she yells out in a angry voice, attempting to mask the sob that escapes with it. "All of this," she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she plops down on her bed.

"Yeah?" I prod at her lightly, taking a seat next to her.

"Fuck off," she replies bluntly, earning a short burst of laughter from me that leaves her looking unsure whether to be confused or pissed off.

Holding up a hand to her, I take in a deep breath. "Listen, I normally _loathe_ mentoring. Every year is the same thing as the year before. A cocky asshole that looks up to me as an idol, thinking he's some hot shit because he's top of his class, and totally sure that he'll be the one to win. They walk around like they own the place, think they don't need anybody else's help to win, antagonize everybody-except for me, who they can't stop sucking up to. . . they think they're invincible. And then whenever I complain about those exact traits to Melody, Luxor, or whoever else's ear I can nag at for a minute, they tell me that same exact sentence."

"You hate them so much because they remind you of yourself," Hailey steals the words from my mouth, mockingly regurgitating that stupid saying.

"Yeah, except that's bullshit. Not one of the tributes to ever get pumped out of District One's academies have been even remotely close to what I was ever like. And I'm not saying that because I'm some cocky piece of hot shit. I am exactly that, but that ain't why I'm saying we're different. There's a _big_ difference that separates me from them, a major piece that every single tribute has always lacked." I pause for a moment to make sure she's still listening, and swallow a lump in my throat. "Until now."

Her eyebrows shoot up, the confusion fully overtaking her features as she eyeballs me. "You have that final missing piece," I tell her. "I see that same fire in you that I had all those years ago. That un-tamable fire that no amount of private trainers or words of wisdom can possibly ever match up to. And let me tell you, while they may not know exactly how rare it is, every single person watching the reapings today saw it in you too, because it's hard to miss. You want to win more than every single other one of these assholes do combined, and there isn't a thing that anybody can do to stop you in there if you give it your all."

I leave her a moment to soak in the information, letting her blankly stare down at the carpet, that unmistakable fire lighting in her eyes, that determination to back up every cocky statement you make, every stupid position you put yourself into. It's actually a bit scary how much she already reminds me of myself, and that's probably why I'm finding myself starting to actually give a damn about her. Most years I couldn't give two shits about what happens to my tributes, but this time is different. I _know_ that Hailey can win, but if she doesn't. . . well, no, she will. There is no alternative.

"So," she mutters, filling the silence.

"So," I knock her on the shoulder. "What in the hell is going on with Prestige that's stopping you from giving it your all?"

"What?" She shoots out defensively.

"Don't _what_ me, I'm not a dumbass. You could pick anybody in the entire district to go in there, yet you clearly picked a girl that you don't very much hate. So, why?"

She immediately flushes, eyes averting to the floor as that same timid demeanor takes her over.

"Listen, kid," I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I let out a deep breath. "I don't give a damn why you picked her, I just need to know it so I can help you stop looking sick to your stomach every time she's in the room with you. I don't care if you picked this girl because you have a _crush_ on her, no matter what it is she's gonna have to be six feet under by the end of the month if you want to get out of that arena."

I didn't actually realize it was possible for a face to flush so red, and I can't help the audible groan that escapes as soon as she buries her head in her arms.

"You gotta be kidding me," I mutter, dragging my hands across my face.

"Shut the fuck up," she murmurs. "You don't need to tell me that I'm a dumbass, or even ask me why in the hell I did that, because I don't fucking know why."

"Alright," I say slowly, barely able to contain my laughter and keep a serious look in place. "If you don't know why you picked Prestige, can you at least tell me why you didn't pick somebody else, like the chosen volunteer?"

She just about gags at the words 'chosen volunteer,' shaking her head. "Bleh, are you really asking me to go into the Games _with_ one of those jackasses?"

"Not ideal, but definitely preferential to the current 'arrangement' we have."

"Oh, stuff it you fucking prick," she tells me off, yet again impressing me with her ability to instantly jump from serious to embarrassed to hell-razing angry.

"Alright, let me break this down for you Hailey. You aren't going to like what I'm about to say, and you're probably going to get upset or pissed off or any combination of the two. You might wanna throw a punch at me or hell, maybe you're the type to break down and cry. I don't care. I care about one thing and one thing only, and that is getting your ass out of that arena in one piece. Got it?"

"Cry me a fucking river about it," she mutters. I raise an eyebrow at her and she just rolls her eyes. "Stop pussy-footing around and spit it out already."

Snorting, I shake my head. "Alright then, let me lay out for you real simple. That girl that you got puppy love for, Prestige, she fucking hates you. She loathes every ounce of your being, and given the chance would gladly slit your throat. She doesn't get butterflies in her stomach when she looks at you, she isn't gonna be won over by some grand deceleration of love during your interviews. She. Hates. You."

That fire is right back in her eyes as she shoots up to her feet, shoving me hard, surprising me a little bit as I stumble back. "You think I don't fucking know that?!"

"I _know_ that you know that, but I don't think that you're really accepting it. I think a little bit of you, that _grand 'ol romantic_ is still clinging onto that itty little bit of hope, isn't it?" I lower myself to her level, getting in her face and taunting her in the most patronizing way possible.

If getting her angry was the goal, I may have outdone myself, a look of pure hatred shining in her eyes as her body trembles with anger. "Yeah!?" She demands.

"Yeah," I reply simply, flashing her a shit-eating smirk.

She takes a step back, anger seemingly simmering down for a moment before her eyes shoot back up from the ground, fully alight as she rears back and swings her fist square towards my jaw. The punch has surprising force behind it, but is still easily caught in my palm as I twist her wrist, catching her other hand as she tries to swing at me again.

"Good," I compliment her calmly, "next time try not to telegraph it so much." After another moment I release her hands, casually dusting off my pants as she tugs back forcefully, staring daggers at me, fists clenching and unclenching as she seems to consider swinging at me again. "Use your anger, don't let it use you. Don't make the same mistake that every dumb brute from Two always does.

"So, what the fuck do you want me to do then?" She mutters bitterly.

With that I lower myself back down to her height, locking eyes with her. "That if you don't want to die, which I know that you don't, then you need to come to terms with killing every. Single. Other. Tribute. All twenty-three kids that you're going to be living, eating, and making friends with for the next week. I want you to imagine yourself slitting their throat in their sleep and not so much as shrug at the thought."

"So, I'm killing everybody now, huh?" She scoffs, crossing her arms and looking away from me.

"You wanna live? Then yeah, you are. Right here, right now, you promise yourself that you won't ever hesitate, won't ever regret or think twice until you're out of that arena. . . then you might as well throw those other tributes six-feet under already."

"So you want me to not care?" She asks, seeming hesitant at the idea.

"No, you'll care. Why do you think it's so hard? There's an eight-year-old girl that got reaped with her daddy, there's a nine-year-old girl that can barely speak, a girl that you're crushing on that's only here because you're a dumbass and dragged her into this mess with you. You're gonna hate yourself twenty-three times over, and that feeling isn't ever gonna go away. You're going to be the meanest, evilest piece of shit headed into that Games, and that's why you're going to be the sorry son of a bitch that gets to leave."

Her eyes seem empty as they stare down at her open palms, slinking to the ground and taking in deep breaths, letting her eyes drift shut as her chest rises and falls. "Alright," she chokes out. She coughs and shakes her head, taking in a deep breath as she opens up her eyes, the fire burning in them yet again as they stare up at me weakly.

"Alright?" I ask her, raising an eyebrow, wanting to prod more out of her. To show me that what she's saying isn't just empty words, but hard, rotten, painful truth.

"All of them, Prestige, everyone. . . they're dead." The words seem to physically pain her to say, and that's what let's me know that they're real. Any psychopathic cock-sucker can say those words and not follow through with them. But that fire inside of Hailey, that fire is burning stronger now than it ever has. She's in pain, and that pain is only going to get worse and worse, and that fire will just burn stronger and stronger.

Those words are more than just words, they're a promise.

 **Picaboo "Peeka" Benner, 19, District Ten**

 **Friday, May 25th, Year 101**

 **Bullet Train, East of the Capitol**

Why do I have to mess everything up? It wasn't enough for me to have been so awful that somebody would want me to go to the Games with them, I had to ruin my final goodbye with Deke too. He wasn't even mad when he came in, he was just hurt, and that made it so much worse. All because I let that escort flirt with me, now Deke will never know how much I love him. I'll never know how much he loves me. Instead, he left that room with tears brimming at his eyes, his trust in me shattered.

Maybe I deserve to be here. I love Deke, so, so much, but I know that I don't deserve him. I've done nothing but hurt him over and over again, maybe it's better for him if I just never came back. That's the feeling that's been taking me over for the past few hours, a helpless sense of worthlessness. The idea that I deserve all of this constantly nagging away at me.

The sounds coming from the hallways don't help that feeling one bit. Cedric has been mad the entire time, and I just wish I could know what I did wrong to him, but every time I tried to tell him I'm sorry he would just keep on yelling. Kyle had to hold him back and tried to calm him down, but it did nothing to help, as long as I was there that anger wouldn't dim.

So I ran. I ran blindly through the halls, forcing myself to not cry, telling myself that I have no reason to cry. Why should I be the one tearing up, when everything that's gone wrong today is my fault? If I could be better, then I wouldn't be here at all, and I definitely wouldn't have hurt Deke. I have such a good life, a perfect fiance, a loving family, and enough money to never have to worry about starving. Why, out of everyone in the world, do I deserve that?

I've been in this closet for a half-hour now, and Kyle has been searching for me for half that time, his calling echoing out through the halls through the wooden door. There's barely any room in here, but just enough for me to huddle up in the corner, a broomstick leaning against my head. I don't want him to find me, and I don't want him to even try to. I want him to go help Cedric, make sure someone who actually deserves it gets to go home. Let someone who deserves their family get to go back to them.

But even as I slam my eyes shut, and will his calling voice to fade away, hope to hear his footsteps clomping away, they only get closer and closer, until right outside my door, as my breathing stops, so do his steps. The door creaks open just a moment later, the tall man poking his head through the crack, his dark brown eyes softly scanning the room until they find me. His lips form a relieved smile as soon as he spots me, and he opens the door the rest of the way, letting out a deep breath.

"Thought we lost you there for a minute," He laughs dryly, his smile fading for a moment as he crouches to my huddled over height. "Why'd you run off?"

I avert my gaze to the ground for a moment, before sadly forcing myself to look him in the eyes. "I'm sorry for making you worry," I wobbly get out. "I should have been more thoughtful."

"It's my job to worry," he responds quickly, flashing a reassuring smile at me that saps up a little bit of the sadness in me. "And right now what I want to worry about is why you ran away from the dinner table and hid in a closet for thirty minutes."

A nervousness eats away at me, the temptation to bite my nails so strong that I have to clamp my hands together to keep them down in my lap. Kyle seems real nice, and seems like he just wants to help, but. . . the answer doesn't come so easy. The complete truth is that he shouldn't even be trying to help me right now, he's just wasting his time. I'm nothing by myself, just a useless girl who can't do anything right. Even if I somehow could win, do I even deserve to?

"Hey," Kyle's voice snaps me out back to the real world, his eyes piercing into mine. "Don't you start thinking that any of this is your fault, all right?"

"I-"

"I saw that look, that same one you had right before you ran away in the dining room. I don't know how you're twisting this awful situation to be even a tiny bit your fault, but don't. Cedric started talking once he calmed down a little bit, and he was out of line to bring you into this mess. He's angry, and blinded, and if he had the time to calm down then he would realize how unfair he's being to you. You don't deserve to be here, but I can tell you that I will do my absolute best to get you out of this."

"You don't understand," I tell him softly, rubbing my arms, head bowed as I fight to keep my eyes off of the floor. "I don't deserve to get out of the Games, I saw the reapings-"

"Picaboo, you have to stop with all the guilt. I don't know what you've done, but whatever it is, you have to let it go. Drop every single thought in your mind except for this: do you want to die?"

"But-"

"Picaboo," he tells me again, this time in a much lower voice, leaning in towards me, a hard, serious look. "Do you want to die?"

"No. . . ." I quietly answer after a long moment, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Then you need to stop hating yourself, and come to terms with your past. Whatever it is you _think_ that you've done that's bad, will mean nothing to you in a few weeks. You'll forget all about any mean words you've said or stupid things that you've done, I promise you." He takes a deep gulp, avoiding my eyes for a moment, his voice dropping to a murmur. "There are much worse things."

"You don't understand, I _want_ to win, but why should I? I _don't deserve_ _to_." Tears are staining my cheeks now, and I desperately wipe them away, sniffling as I dab at them with my sleeve.

Kyle sobers up at that, loosening his jaw, taking in a shaky breath as he nods his head. "Let me tell you a little story, Picaboo." His eyes look blank, and he brings his fist up to his mouth, his whole body shaking as he takes in another breath. "I won my Games by killing three people, two of them were murdering Careers that I could attempt to convince myself deserved it, and at least try to get some sleep at night without feeling sick to my stomach." He pauses for a moment, his eyes going blank again for a moment before they refocus on me with a burning fire in them. "The third one was a fifteen-year-old girl. She had no blood on her hands, was a sweet, friendly little kid who helped me build a fire in training. She was a miracle child for her parents, who thought they wouldn't be able to have kids, and never had another. She was a good kid, and I killed her. Not in self-defense. In cold. blood."

He lets that sink in for a moment, shakily raking his hand through his hair as he lets in another heavy breath, his voice hoarse. "Addison Lira deserved to live, I sure as hell didn't, yet here I am." He leans in, and I involuntarily bring my knees up to my chest, hugging onto them tightly. "I don't know what it is that you're thinking, but I can promise you that you deserve to survive a hell of a lot more than I did. But what you do and don't deserve doesn't mean jack in the Games. What you have to realize is that there will _always_ be people like Addison in the Games. . . and there will always be people like me. You're going to have to decide which one of those people you want to be."

Kyle leaves it at that, turning away as he climbs back to his feet. I swear I hear him sniffle as he turns his back to me, though he quickly composes himself, clearing his throat and quickly walking away, picking up a hat from the floor on his way out and planting it on his head.

His words are all swirling around in my head still, too much for me to take in all at once, a mess of emotions and thoughts running through my head. But above everything else, clear and loud and echoing through my mind are those final words. _"You're going to have to decide which one of those people you want to be."_ It's a simple question, a decision that should take only a moment to decide.

It scares me that I don't have an answer.

 **Tristan Bay, 28, District Twelve Mentor**

 **Friday, May 25th, Year 101**

 **Bullet Train, East of the Capitol**

Tributes don't always get along, I get it. Heck, I'm probably one of the worst cases of that in Games history, so it would be a bit hypocritical of me to complain. But these two? Come on. Blaze is a promising kid, one with all the right pieces to take home the title, but he's been doing his best to antagonize himself at every step of the way so far. We've been over the situation half a dozen times now, and yet as sorry as Ephraim has shown to be about the event which was really just a misunderstanding, Blaze refuses to let it go. Its almost as if he thinks that by forgiving Ephraim he's admitting he was wrong to pick him, and that his anger was misguided.

Either way, the two are past the point of reconciliation, and since Blaze is the one that refuses to let bygones be gone, he'll be the one getting mentored by his escort, something he seemed slightly irked about, but yet again, not enough so to swallow his pride and just agree to work with Ephraim. It isn't like I'm asking him to ally up, just to stomach being in the same room as him.

So instead, my hopes are now in the boy before me, harmless yet a bit stupid and cocky, and accidentally even more antagonizing than Blaze. The minor concussion that he still has doesn't help his case much, especially since the odds of it being reset once he's in the Games are about as high as the odds that Blaze will go to the grave without forgiving him for his dumb joke.

"I'm sorry," Ephraim pipes up suddenly, legs jittering as he seems to want to be anywhere but sitting on a sofa with me, the idea of patiently waiting for something beyond his comprehension. "I've kind of messed things up for Twelve this year, huh?" He laughs at his comment, but it doesn't take much to tell that he's being serious behind the thinly veiled joke.

"Nothing to be sorry about, just focus in on the competition and worry about getting out, alright?"

"Yes m'am," he replies with the flash of a smile. One thing I do have to hand the kid is that he has optimism in boatloads, and doesn't seem to question the fact that I'm trying to help him survive like lots of tributes do.

Thankfully our wait in the silence isn't much longer, the advertisements coming to a close as the scheduled rebroadcast of the reaping recap begins. We missed the first showing because I actually thought that I could get through to Blaze for a while, and didn't realize until _much_ later how stubborn the boy really is. But it doesn't matter now, us two get to pick apart the tributes here in the lounge while Rose and Blaze watch in the dining room.

 _Welcome one and all to the Reaping Recap for the one-hundred and first Annual Hunger Games!_

The unmistakable voice of Coira Thompson cuts through the air as I quickly turn up the volume on the television. Some mentors like to mute out the announcers, but I like to hear what they have to say. Makes it a lot less drab, at the very least, not that I have any doubt that Ephraim will be making constant comments and more than few (most likely lame) attempts at jokes.

"Her voice is weird," he says, confirming that this won't be a silent viewing like it normally is. Good, quiet tributes are usually boring tributes, and boring tributes tend to not garner much attention from sponsors.

"How so?" I ask.

"Well. . . it's weird because. . . it isn't?"

I actually laugh at that, not just a fake chuckle to make things less awkward, but a genuine laugh that gets him laughing as well. "I get what you mean, she doesn't have that _posh accent,_ " I say, lifting a pinky into the air as I mimic the thick, high-pitched atrocity that the Capitolite accent is.

Ephraim continues to giggle along at this, and it may just be my imagination, but he seems much more relaxed now, calmly leaning back into the sofa as he watches the television with an easy smile on his lips.

District One's reapings start up not much longer, and both of us breathe sighs of relief as soon as a young girl is called, though not much longer Ephraim's relief switches to guilt as his cheeks flush red.

"Don't feel bad for being relieved, you aren't happy that a kid is gonna die, you're just glad you're not gonna get killed by a Career."

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugs, though he still doesn't look convinced. It only takes a moment longer for him to go back to laughing though, as the small girl promptly kicks a Peacekeeper in the nuts, sends the other one reeling with a punch. . . and then continues to walk up to stage.

"I think I'll take one of the Careers, please," Ephraim laughs, and I roll my eyes at the comment. Kid manages to cheer himself up pretty quickly, gotta hand it to him.

Both of us have to do a double take when the chosen girl also isn't a Career, instead a tiny girl that doesn't even look fifteen years old. Coira informs the audience that the girl is a 'soccer prodigy,' but gives no reasoning for why a Career wasn't chosen instead.

"Well, that's a hopeful start," Ephraim tells me, quirking a half smile.

"Don't underestimate them," I caution him. "They're still from District One, and that first girl definitely has some sort of training."

"Yeah, I'll be staying away from that one," he laughs.

District Two starts off equally as hopeful, with a bratty looking teenager getting reaped and throwing a fit as she's dragged up stage. But as well as it starts off, the lucky streak has to end eventually, and it does so in a large way with the next tribute, a hulking monster of a man who puts to shame any other Career I've seen before.

"Well, shit," Ephraim mutters. "That dude looks like he could break me in half, literally."

"I'd add him to your 'stay away' list," I tell him, only half-jokingly.

"Agreed."

District Three offers up a couple nerdy looking kids that probably combine to weigh half of the monster from Two. Still, Ephraim doesn't seem to write them off, and I'm grateful I don't have to explain to him how much of a threat _anybody_ can be in the Games. That's not even mentioning the fact that they're being mentored by Dalton, who can make _anybody_ into a threat, bless his nonexistent soul.

Up next we're right back into the Careers, and while neither of the two girls are as threatening as the boy from Two, they're a league above the pair from one as well. They look like fairly typical Careers, the looks and the brains, both of them probably having some decent weapon skills behind them to top it off.

"Well," Ephraim sighs. "After the first three it kinda looked like there wouldn't even be Career pack, but I think they managed to pull it out of their ass."

"That's one way of putting it," I snort. "Just steer clear of all of them and you'll be fine, there's no way this alliance doesn't self-destruct, considering half of them clearly don't want to be here."

District Five is the first district where neither of the tributes are particularly threatening, but judging by Ephraim's reaction to seeing a near-mute little girl in a state of shock up on stage, I'm not sure if that's a good thing. Ephraim is a good kid, he's empathetic and while he may be brash, he really doesn't have much mean in him. Legitimate empathy is a pretty rare thing, so its sad to have to be in a position where it's a bad trait to have. But, when it comes down to it, being nice is synonymous with getting yourself killed in the world we live in.

"Just don't think about it, Ephraim, it sounds awful but. . . if you just ignore the kids like her, someone else will do the dirty work."

He pales at the thought, but tensely nods his head, eyes averting to the ground. He's clearly thinking about something, but I don't push him. Let him have his time with his thoughts, and he'll either realize what he needs to do to win, or decide that it isn't worth it. It's not up to me to decide which one of those he chooses, just to support him unconditionally.

District Six does nothing to help the mood, a little girl even younger than the one from Five going into the Games with her father. My heart goes out to poor Audra and Atlas for having these two after what happened last year, a feeling that only gets stronger when Coira mentions the girl's relation to Amara. If anyone can handle this emotional trainwreck, I'd trust in Atlas, but still. . . mentoring can be unfair sometimes.

It's pretty easy to not realize in the moment just how lucky you've gotten. While I was focused on my two tributes inability to get along, I've ignored the fact that I have two capable, kind (albeit brash and hardheaded) young men with a legitimate chance of winning the Games this year. And, while I hate to think about worst case scenarios, their deaths will sting much less than the kids that Audra and Atlas are stuck with this year. Silver linings.

Sometimes, you have to cling to what you got, however little it may be. What else can you really do?

* * *

 **A/N: I'm gonna stop apologizing for being late because it seems like this is normal update speed for me now. I really don't want it to be, and hopefully it'll change soon, but sadly free time and motivation to write are two things that don't align very often lately. Winter break will hopefully be a turning point for that, we'll see.**

 **Anyways, I hope y'all liked this chapter, and if you're getting tired of seeing so much of the mentors, then you're in luck because we're (mostly) through with their POVs in the pre-games. If you DO like seeing the mentors, you're also in luck because they'll still be around both in the Games, and through their tribute POVs for the rest of the pre-games. But yeah, for the rest of the pre-games we'll be getting into more of the tributes POVs, training, interviews, party, all that fun stuff. Next chapter we'll be checking in with Merrium and Coira for the Tribute Parade(I promise that I won't switch it up this time lol).**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite mentor?(doesn't have to be one from this chapter)**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite POV?**

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 **Alliances(only updated with confirmed, on-screen alliances)**

 **Ghosts:** Clyde, Rain


	13. Chariots: Games and Facades

"Games and Facades"

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 **A/N: Uhhh, so yeah, sorry about that delay. I mean, not much I could have done to make it any shorter, but sorry that you guys thought I was probably dead or something for a while there lol. Long story short: hospital visit, family drama, 18 credit hours, 20 hour work week, a teaching practicum, and Robinson _fucking_ Crusoe. All of those things(minus the hospital) are still things going on, so updates may still be tough, but I've gotten better at handling this workload, and I have crazy motivation to write right now(we're getting into the real juicy stuff now).**

 **So yay! I'm alive! Now to catch up on the 20 chapters that I haven't read or reviewed yet. . .**

 **(Enjoy)**

 **Warning: Merrium cusses a lot, but so do I lol, so I'm sure you guys aren't too worried about that being a thing here. She's also kind of an asshole to people, so try not to take too much offense if she makes fun of her tribute. She's just mean like that.**

 **PS: Normally the song choice is just an afterthought, but this one in particular REALLY fits not only the chapter, but the story as a whole, good theme song, so y'all should check it out(Legends Never Die by Against the Current)**

* * *

 _~Legends never die when the world is calling you_

 _Can you hear them screaming out your name?_

 _Legends never die, they become a part of you_

 _Every time you bleed for reaching greatness_

 _Legends never die~_

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 **Coira Thompson, 32, Hunger Games Interviewer**

 **Twilight, Saturday, May 26th**

 **Civic Center Park, The Capitol**

The crowd that draws to the plaza is seemingly endless. The makeshift bleachers are filled to capacity, blobs of color all blended together. Men, women, and children of all ages are packed into the park, inching over each other's shoulders for a better view of the square. Giant timpani drums are manned by stoic members of the Panemian Orchestra, cotton tipped mallets held at stand-by, the giant doors that hold back the tributes ready to open at a moments notice. Beyond the drummers, the upper class side-line seating, and unending bleachers, an even further stretching row of standing citizens watch any of the gigantic big-screen televisions broadcasting the parade live. Currently the camera glides over these groups of people on a panoramic shot of the park, but in just a few moments it will land on my person.

"We're live in sixty!"

"All tributes acounted for, loading chariots as of now."

"Doors opening in two minutes, watch the clock and release on my mark."

"Somebody give me the anticipated viewership demographics, president Choice has requested them immediately."

The general chaos of the waning moments before we go live fills the air, increased ten-fold by the high expectations these Games have. A quell one year following the previous one, with a new administration, an inflated budget, and a star-studded cast of tributes? Chaos is the name of the game.

Luckily, it takes a lot more than viewership goals to stress me out, and while Alexa shows some signs of nervousness, she's charismatic enough to play it off as energetic excitement.

"You got your notes?" Alexa asks, already knowing the answer, yet clearly looking to fill the thick bubble of silence that has formed at our desk, in stark contrast to the situation in the rest of the suite, set opposite of the president's balcony and with a bird-eye view of the square below.

"Yep," I affirm nonchalontly, hoping some of my calamity rubs off on her, though it appears to do no such thing, earning only a fretted nod and jittery smile.

"Alright everyone!" The producer yells out, just about silencing the room as everyone rushes to their posts. "Get in position, we are live in five, four, three, two. . . ."

I put on a wide smile for the cameras, Alexa quickly doing the same, any signs of nervousness wiping from her expression as she transforms into the bubbly, cheerful personality she's created for herself.

Taking in one quick deep breath, we go live, and Alexa wastes no time to dive into an introduction, eyes occasionaly darting to the clock, rushing out her words in order to time the opening of the gates perfectly.

"Good evening Panem, and welcome to the Tribute Parade for the one-hundred first Annual Hunger Games! I'm thrilled to be your host for this years festivities, and am happy to be joined by our interviewer for this year's Games, Coira Thompson!"

She giggles slightly as she motions over to me, and I wave to the cameras, offering an odd, intentionally awkward half-smile for a moment before bursting out in laughter and brushing back a strand of hair from my eyes. "Glad to finally kick the old man off of his eternal throne."

Alexa giggles at this, a sincere one, folding her hands over the table. "I wouldn't get too cocky if I were you, never know when your own kid is gonna give you the boot and send you to the retirement home."

"I'm not too worried," I laugh, pausing for a moment as I tap a finger to my chin. "But, you do give a good idea with that retirement home bit. . . ."

The two of us exchange a quick moment of laughter, before Alexa quickly composes herself and turns to the camera. "Well, it's about time that we move on to the event that all of you tuned in to see, and are undoubtedly waiting for with bated breath. Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing our tributes for this years Annual Hunger Games!"

On sync with her words, the massive iron doors begin to creak open, natural and artificial light flooding through the cracks and into the building, just enough to catch a shadowy glimpse of the first chariots coming out.

"And do keep in mind," I quickly pipe up. "This year saw a massive increase in funding for the Games, much of which went to the stylists, who have promised to me that this year will blow away anything done before, particularly with specialized chariot design for specific districts."

I have to mute my mic to let in a deep breath after that quick info-dump, the words escaping just as the first chariot makes its way out into the square. The collective breaths of the entire audience catch as soon as the light catches the District One pair, even my own insider information not preparing me for the full extent of the effort put into this year's design.

The Chariot has been altered to have two opposite halves, standing at stark contrast to each other. On the one side is a white stallion, artificial LED lighting along a pristine white wall, and what must be turf but looks like real grass lining the bottom of the chariot. While this side is baked in light and warmth, the other side is dark and foreboading, a dark horse pulling ahead of a dimly lit, black cage looking similar to what you'd see in the training facility.

But what really takes the cake isn't the chariots, but rather the tributes in them. Prestige exemplifies the light warmth perfectly, a shy smile as her eyes avert to the ground, where she casually fiddles with a soccer ball, easily doing tricks that defy my ideas of physics, ball rolling along her back as she flicks it into the air, displaying the back of her jersey clearly, which reads her surname, and below it the number five. Hailey, meanwhile, bakes in the darkness, a harsh glare as she clutches what I can only hope is a fake knife in her hand, clad in an all-black training outfit except for the light gray number one signifying her district. Unlike Prestige, she refuses to play along with the chariot rides in the typical sense, unwittingly fitting her role to perfection, a brooding shadow to Prestige's light.

"Wow," Alexa mutters. "How do you really react to that except for wow. What a start to this parade, with Hailey and Prestige living up to everybody's highest expectations for what this quell will truly be about: division and contrast between the tributes."

"Absolutely, I'll be looking forward to seeing if anybody can continue along the same path, and personalize their chariot designs so perfectly for their tributes."

It's hard to peel the attention away from District One, but once I do look over to District Two, I have to do a double take. Yet again the chariot has been morphed into something completely different, although they go in a whole different direction. The stallions are decked out in roman armor, and behind them the chariot has been transformed into a round, miniaturized coliseum.

Horatio stands in the center, with what must be hundreds of pounds of bronze armor on his body as he deftly lifts a sword into the air, letting out a bloodthirsty scream. He really fits the gladiator role absolutely perfect, looking like something straight out of a movie. Even his partner Unity looks dazzling, dressed as an empress and given a throne elevated above the gladiatorial ring. While she looks less confident in the role than Horatio, she still looks like she belongs in ancient times, the District Two prep team working overtime with her.

"Another absolutely stunning chariot," Alexa fawns. "Thematically, they've done just as good a job as District One in fitting the tributes so perfectly. Horatio looks like a prim and proper gladiator down there, doesn't he?"

"He sure does, I know I wouldn't want to be in the ring with him."

Even though chariots usually are a bit of a bore for me, it's hard to not get entranced by the costumes this year, and I find myself giddy as I wait to see what District Three did with their creative liberty.

Sure enough, they don't let the crowds down, earning a rare roar of applause for the technology district as they come firing out, horses looking more mutt than animal, and chariot purposefully a chaotic, destructive aftermath. The white walls and floors of the 'room' lead you to believe that it may have once been a pristine science lab, but now it looks as if an explosion went off in it. The entire chariot is charred, with bubbling green chemicals dripping from glass cylinders and off of a table.

Both Malcolm and Cyril are, yet again, perfect for their roles, dressed in burnt lab coats and given static hair, Cyril's in particular sticking in every direction imaginable, frayed glasses in place and goggles dangling from their necks. While both of them have the looks to play the mad scientist, neither seems to be into the role as much as the previous tributes have been, Cyril twitching in nervousness as he avoids eye-contact, while Malcolm looks embarrassed and angry to be in such an awkward outfit.

"Oh man," Alexa laughs. "By the looks of Cyril, I think we can know who the one destroying the lab was."

"Yeah, and Malcolm doesn't look too happy about it, does he?"

"Can't say I would blame him," Alexa giggles, her laughter spreading over to me, the sight too ridiculous to hold back my laughter. Even if the reality of their situation is much more somber than we're making it out to be, it helps to pretend otherwise. Makes my job a lot less painful at least. Just imagine them as characters in a television show, and ignore the realness of it all. It's a bit scary how easy that really is.

There isn't time to sit here and ponder my morality though, and I quickly snap myself back into focus as the District Four chariot begins to creep out into the light. And just like that, right when I begun to think that I was ready for whatever was coming, the stylist team from Four blows me away.

The chariot itself is stunning, a tank filled with ocean water, two lone pillars of rock seating the District Four pair. While my first impression of the two is mermaids, I soon after notice the dark tint of the water near them, and much more grimly, two skulls sinking towards the bottom of the sea. Both are scantily dressed, thankfully at least given some sort of covering, though Merrium looks like she wouldn't have minded less, leaning forward off of the rock and smiling seductively. McKenna, meanwhile, looks slightly less comfortable, though is good at acting otherwise, using a harp that she softly plays to further cover herself.

"Wow," Alexa exclaims. "I'm not sure if mermaid is quite the word to describe these two. . . ."

"Siren," I tell her confidently. "The mermaids evil twin sister, I can't think of a better representation for the type of game these two ladies seem to be playing."

"Luring in the unsuspecting and taking them down, brilliant."

"You can say that again, the prep team really struck gold with this one. We've had some fantastic outfits so far, but this one might have to take the cake."

"We'll have to see," she nods. "Still eight more chariots left to go, speaking of which, here comes District Five now. . . ."

Even before the District Five chariot emerges from the darkness of the prep center, the barely visible blinking of toxic green lights can be spotted, dimly lighting the way as a dark chariot rolls out, seemingly being in its own bubble of darkness. The horses are covered in sickly green toxic sewage and the chariot is overgrown with grass and vines, an unnatural green glow giving it a feeling of desolation. Aside from this slight glowing, the blinking red and green lights come from the outfits of Levi and Sigma, who otherwise seem to blend into their chemical background.

Sigma seems perfect for the situation, un-moving and nearly impossible to spot, grass camouflaging her, only the periodic blinking lights on her chest making her visible, a stone statue standing in a place without life. It's pretty artistic, even though it's hard to pay attention to the clear vision the stylist had with Levi giddily bouncing around next to her.

His excitement is contagious though, and even though it's strange seeing him jump and wave in his ghillie suit, the crowd is eating it up, Sigma quite literally being overshadowed.

"Man, Levi sure seems excited to be here, doesn't he?" Alexa laughs.

"He sure does, but I gotta say Sigma is also looking adorable too," I say, hoping to bring some attention to the poor girl.

"She sure does," Alexa nods. "But I think Levi is stealing the show right now."

She's right too, even though this is the place the crowd usually starts to quiet down, they're as loud as ever, a few people even tossing roses at their chariot, though Levi doesn't manage, or even attempt for that matter, to catch one.

"Wow, another amazing job by the stylists," Alexa applauds. "Let's see if we can go all the way to the halfway mark with this level."

"Well, won't have to wait long to find out, as here comes District Six now!"

Almost perfectly on queue, the next chariot enters out into the sunlight, a mechanical pair of horses leading the charge, gears visibly turning as it trots forward. While some of the other chariots have gone a bit more wild with their imagination, District Six is a bit more clear with their vision: steampunk all the way. Everything about the chariot is a mechanical mess, but all that serves as a background to the father and daughter pair, who immediately steal the show. Both are dressed in full steampunk attire, down to the black top hats and over sized goggles, just a splash of pink thrown in on Rain's outfit to make her pop out from the background.

The help isn't needed though, as Rain is already getting all the attention, hoisted over her dad's shoulders, seemingly fearless of being just a slip away from falling off the chariot, an idea that leaves my palms sweaty. Instead, she looks completely carefree, waving and giving a half-shy, half-giddy smile towards the crowd. Clyde is almost impossible to see, and it seems he's fine with that, fondly smiling up at Rain, not seeming to even notice anything else that's going on.

"Awww," Alexa squeaks, holding her hands to her heart. "Now can we talk about adorable for a moment? I think we may have an early crowd favorite."

The crowd definitely does seem to be behind them too, more flowers being tossed out towards them than any other District except maybe Four. I nearly have a heart attack as Rain reaches far out to snatch one of them out of mid air, and Alexa laughs at my jumpiness.

"You look terrified there, Coira," she teases.

Letting out a deep breath, I shake my head. "I think I'm more scared for her than she is for herself."

"Definitely seems like a brave one, doesn't she?"

After District Six, the crowd dies down significantly, Seven providing the first disappointment of the day with a well intentioned forest design, that just can't get past the boring overuse of trees from the lumber district. District Eight is slightly better, but the mechanized chariot they have is just a worse version of Six, and with the giddy excitement being replaced by two brooding boys. District Nine is cute, the two tributes laying down and relaxing in a hay bale with straw hats on, but just can't live up to the hype of the other tributes. Although, I do have to admit Clara in particular does fit the role perfectly, and at least gets some attention, unlike her district partner.

District Ten comes up next, looking strikingly similar to Nine, the only difference being Picaboo looking like a prim and proper southern belle(and playing the part to perfection at that), while Cedric is a field hand, something he seems furious about, refusing to play the part, even ripping off his gloves and tossing them out of the chariot.

Picaboo looks terrified, trying to just pretend Cedric isn't there, eyes glued to the floor as she attempts to shyly smile and wave to the crowd, which earns her a fair share of support. A few people even toss some roses her way, though this doesn't do anything to ease her anxiety, instead only making her look more terrified, avoiding the flowers as if they were poison ivy.

After that strange chariot, we get an even stranger one in Eleven, with the entirety of the crowd booing Frazier the moment he's visible. Poor Bluebell just keeps her head down and stays far away from the horrible man, who seems to be reveling in the hatred, soaking it up, even egging on the crowd to get louder. A few hecklers toss some rotten fruit his way, though none of them hit their mark, one tomato even managing to strike Bluebell instead, causing her to instantly burst out in tears.

Neither of us say anything about this pair, not wanting to touch it with a ten foot pole. Normally it's an interviewer's job to give every tribute a chance to give their side of the story, but not in this case. Some people are just monsters, and deserve to be treated as such.

Luckily, it isn't long before we can move on to the final district, the normally low-flying district continuing to bore, half the crowd not even watching as the coal-dusted horses lead a chariot of coal out, the two men dressed as miners, and neither looking enthusiastic to be here(though Ephraim does at least try, unlike Blaze who just glares the entire time).

With all twenty-four tributes all lined up, President Choice steps out onto the balcony in front of them, smiling broadly at the tributes. While everyone else watches the new president's each and every move, I tune her out for a moment, ignoring her bland speech about unifying our country and the necessity of the Games, instead focusing on the tributes. Back when I was a kid, and listening to a speech like hers was even more boring than it is for me now, I would make it a game to look for certain types of reactions in tributes. You always have the pissed of ones who aren't afraid to show it, like Hailey, Cedric, and Blaze, and the ones that are just as mad, but are better at acting, like Clyde and Prestige. There's the ones that look happy to be here, that don't look quite as happy once you look a little closer: Levi, Rain, Ephraim, Picaboo. But oddly enough, the ones I always like to find the most, are the ones that look scared. The ones that shake in their boots and make most feel sorry for them. Maybe it's because it reminded me of myself as a kid, always shy and hating the eyes of others, but those kids are the ones that I always looked at as more than just tributes. The ones like Sigma and Cyril that remind you that these are actual kids, not just names and numbers and ages, characters in a movie. These are the ones that I always cling onto, so that I can always remember the reality of this all.

That this isn't just a _Game_.

 **Merrium Solera, 19, District Four**

 **Twilight, Saturday, May 26th**

 **Training Center Ground Floor, The Capitol**

As the massive metal doors close behind us, locking us into the training center, the deafening noises of the crowd cut out into a silence as thick as honey, and as awkward as it is sweet. I don't pay any mind to it though, not really giving much of a damn about what the dirty outliers do now. All that I have my eyes on is that giant mass of a man from Two, who looks so stupid it's almost cute, if not for the fact that his face is so hideous that I don't think the word cute could _ever_ be used for him.

I'm a bit let down that he doesn't make a move towards us first, so that I can stay in my full outfit (I saw the way that just about every guy here was looking at me out there, and Horatio doesn't seem like the type of man to resist a siren), but it's no real big problem. Still a stupid, testosterone filled man who probably thinks he's untouchable, and doesn't realize that girls just don't _want_ to touch a freak of nature like himself.

Getting off the mermaid (siren, I guess) tail is easy enough, but I have to wait for my prep team to empty out the water before I can get out to avoid too big of a splash. Finally, after a minute of impatiently waiting, spent locked in a chariot with McKenna staring down every tribute, probably over-analyzing their breathing patterns or something as useful as that, they manage to pump out enough water that I can step out.

In a moment I'm strutting over towards the District Two chariot, my moves gaining the attention of more than just Horatio, who looks less human than he does dog, panting at a bone waved in front of his face. Unity looks less impressed, doing typical bratty, spoiled teenage bitch stuff, flipping her hair and huffing as she side-glares me. She just better thank her lucky stars we need somebody to watch the cornucopia while the _real_ Careers do all the fun.

Even with how long we've been waiting in our chariot, we're still the first ones out, everyone else still in or next to their chariot, most standing silently but a handful chatting with each other. District One fits under the category of awkwardly standing, the two on opposite sides of the chariot and seeming to avoid even looking at each other.

"Fun District One pair, huh?" I ask, nodding in their direction as I approach the Two pair, McKenna hot on my tails, taking time to glance back at District Three for some reason.

"I don't like either of them," Horatio speaks up, and I'm almost taken aback by the fact that he doesn't sound like a complete neanderthal. I mean, he isn't exactly _smart_ sounding, but he sounds less like a dumb brute and more like a psychotic freak. The kind of voice that some freaky, upper class and secretly a cannibal dude would have.

"Nice voice," I lie, flashing a seductive smile, biting down on my rosy red lips and flirting my eyes over his body quickly (better than looking at that face, at least).

"Alright," McKenna interrupts annoyingly, snapping my spell over Two as his gaze snaps to the authoritative voice. "Enough flirting, let's go over to the One pair and see what's up." Her voice doesn't offer any argument, neither does the fact that she immediately begins walking over there, Horatio quickly turning and hustling to keep pace, his massive body armor comically clapping against him as he half runs, half waddles over. Unity just snorts and rolls her eyes, and I feel glad that at least the snotty bitch isn't throwing any surprises about her character.

"What's up, One?" McKenna calls out, Horatio seeming to physically be in pain at having the girl who he towers over already taking the role of leader. That'll be a fun one to play out, alpha male vs. alpha female, brain vs no brain, brawn vs twig. Always good to know that if anyone is going to go crazy and kill someone in their sleep, that it won't be your throat getting slit.

Both heads snap over at the introduction, and neither of them look overly friendly, each attempting to shoot a glare, but looking so silly on their tiny little selves that I can't help but laugh at it.

"So," I say, "You two don't seem like the type to want to both be in the alliance together, so which one we taking, yin or yang?"

"We'll take both, as long as you two are competent enough," McKenna states plainly, ignoring my comment altogether.

"And who put you in charge of that decision?" Horatio speaks up, sizing up as he hulks over McKenna, who impressively enough looks completely unfazed.

"You have an argument for why we shouldn't take anyone from a Career district that puts up a good training score and will be useful to the alliance?"

"I-" he starts to argue, but then quickly chomps his jaw down, huffing and shaking his head, his glare only sharpening as he stares down at my district partner.

"Good, then-"

"Forget it," Prestige cuts her off, the soccer ball held in her right arm looking like it's ready to pop from the pressure she puts against her side. "I'm not being in an alliance with _her_ ," she mutters, not even offering a side glance to the girl who's eyes are currently glued to her feet, with. . . tears in them? Maybe? It's hard to tell from this angle, but I wouldn't exactly be surprised.

"Well," McKenna calmly begins, "If you-"

"I said forget it," she says abruptly. "I'm not spending the next three weeks being buddy buddy with you assholes."

"Not so light and bright anymore," Unity yawns, picking at her fingernails.

It earns a snicker from me, even if the person saying it is a total bitch, doesn't mean it isn't any less funny. Prestige doesn't seem to even hear though, turning around and walking away as the doors for the elevator open, unloading the mentors out into the garage.

"Well then, Hailey," McKenna turns to the other girl, who looks up at her with a surprising amount of resolve, looking much more like the pissed off girl from the chariots and the beginning of the Reapings.

The girl just nods her head. "Yeah, I'm in."

"Good, we'll meet at the training center, everyone try to be there at least ten minutes early so we can chat it out a bit beforehand."

"Yeah," Horatio mutters, gaze still locked on McKenna. "We'll chat it out alright."

It takes all my willpower not to snort at the guy, he tries so hard to sound _scary_ , but honestly, unless you're thirteen it's just more funny than anything. "Sounds like a plan," I instead say, winking at Horatio when his eyes fall over me for a _long_ second.

Unity just rolls her eyes again, and mutters out a "whatever," while Hailey is already long gone, pacing herself quickly towards the far elevator, the one nobody else is headed to, Galavant Redding hustling after her, cussing to himself _very_ loudly as he attempts to reach her before she can get in.

A bipolar thirteen-year-old, a basic bitch, a power-hungry nerd, and a creepy psychopath with a complex. Not exactly a functioning Career alliance, but it sure as hell will be an entertaining one.

* * *

 **A/N:** **Hope y'all liked this chapter! Be sure to let me know what you think of my writing, the characters, and all of that jazz! I'm glad if y'all like my story, but I know I'm nowhere near a perfect writer(didn't even proof read this one T_T), so if you have any questions/concerns/criticisms please feel free to put them out there!**

 **See you guys next time, when we'll visit Sigma and one of the escorts, idk who, Atlas maybe? IDK, who do you guys feel like you wanna check in on? Keep in mind all the escorts will get one POV (not counting the reapings), so everyone will be getting a POV regardless of who you choose, it's just who you want to see right now rather than later.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite chariot(s)? Do you like the incorporation of the chariots into the design, or do you just like it staying as an outfit?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Do you think the Career alliance will manage to function? Will it implode? Fracture? Lose members? Gain some? Give me your predictions/thoughts!**

 **Alliances(only updated with confirmed, on-screen alliances)**

 **Careers:** Hailey, Horatio, Unity, Merrium, McKenna

 **Ghosts:** Clyde, Rain


	14. Training: Shattered and Paralyzed

"Shattered and Paralyzed"

* * *

 **A/N: So, I decided to trim down my pre-games stuff just a little bit. Or more like just condense it into less chapters. So because of that, we're jumping into our first training chapter here, as we visit the _Shattered_ alliance.**

 **PS: There's a _heavy-handed_ reference in this chapter.**

 **Warning: Vulgar language, but that's a bit of a gimme at this point lol**

* * *

 _~It feels like I'm paralyzed, and I can't_

 _Escape from the prison I'm living in_

 _I'm naming the voices in my head_

 _They keep on telling me to give in~_

* * *

 **Levi Ezra, 17, District Five**

 **Morning, May 27th, Year 101**

 **Floor Zero, Training Center**

Sigma doesn't seem to be much of an early riser. The poor girl refused to get out of bed this morning, leaving Aleksey, Audra, and I all confused about what to do. Aleksey just suggested that we eat breakfast and that she'll probably get herself up, but by the time that training was supposed to start in just five minutes, Audra gave up and went in there, carrying her out and plopping her onto the elevator with me. We didn't really talk about the Games at all during breakfast, or the whole train ride for that matter, but the message her eyes gave me is plenty clear enough. _Keep her safe._

She didn't exactly have to tell me that, either. I already know I'll be lucky if I even make it alive _into_ the Games, much less out of them, so I'm not in this to win it for myself. From the moment I volunteered, I knew that I would be doing my best to get Sigma back home in tact. I just never realized how hard that would be. How am I supposed to send her back in one piece when she's already shattered?

I tried to make friends with her on the train, I really did, but it seemed like every time I tried to say something nice to her, it would just scare her more than anything else. The only one she doesn't immediately tense up next to is Audra, and even then it's an uneasy trust. Even with her, she still hasn't said a single word.

But that doesn't stop me from taking her hand and leading her out of the elevator and out into the ginormous training room, squeezing her softly shaking hand for support as she timidly darts her eyes around the room. She leans in extra close to me as we pass by a few other kids my age, and I feel a little bit of warmth in knowing that even if it isn't much, I'm helping her feel just a little bit safer.

Because of how late we are, by the time we step into the room, the head trainer is already getting ready to start her speech, smiling warmly at us all. "Greetings tributes, please circle around me, don't be afraid to get too close, I've read everyone's files, and as far as I know, nobody bites."

I laugh at that, earning a mixture of confused and angry looks from the rest of the room, that remains dead silent. I swear that I see the tiniest hint of a smile from Sigma though, and that just makes my smile widen even more as I beam up at the head trainer, who looks happy that _someone_ found her joke funny.

"Thanks, I'll be here all week," she laughs, quickly cutting herself off and turning towards the rest of the crowd. "My name is Trainer Harper, and aside from being the main trainer for this year's Games, I am also in charge of the new station: in-combat maneuverability. In case the awesomeness of that station isn't enough to already have you hooked, I would keep in mind that while one-fourth of the stations here will be completely useless to you in the arena, and are only here to throw you off about the nature of the arena, the head trainer for any given year is the trainer of the station deemed most useful for the arena by the Gamemakers."

She stops for a moment to take a breath of air, her voice firing off even faster than mine usually does, a smile spreading across my face. I'm bouncing off my toes, feeding off her energy. There's no more question anymore about what station I'll be headed to first.

"We have all of the normal survival and athletic stations, with the new inclusions of navigation and (obviously) my station. Weapons stations are a bit crazy this year, though. We still have the basic sword, knives, bow, spear, and hand to hand, but we also have sabers, warhammers, riot shields, gauntlets, pistols, and rifles. Again, while it's highly likely a fourth of these are just to throw you off, I'd check a few of them out to be safe. Physics is also a new station this year, apparently, which again, you might want to investigate. Aside from that we have physicians and psychologists you can check into at your own discretion.

"Please remember to abide by the simple rules of the training center. There will be no fighting under any circumstances whatsoever, you may not spar with other tributes, and no taking any training center resources (particularly weapons) outside of this room. Stations that require a trainer will open and close at eight every morning and night, while electronic stations, as well as some weapon stations, will be open twenty-four seven. Are there any questions?"

The answer comes in resounding silence from our spread out group, and she flashes a smile at us all. "Well, if you come up with any questions, feel free to ask me, or any of the other trainers here at your disposable. Have fun, use your time wisely, and may the odds be ever in your favor. You're all dismissed."

The moment she finishes speaking, the Careers all begin loudly chatting, not minding that everyone else can here them discuss which stations they're going to go to, and which tributes they think are going to be easy pickings to scare. Aside from them, only the girls from One and Six move, the little girl giggling and running off to a station while her dad attempts to keep up, while the soccer player from One (I can't remember names to save my life) keeps her head down as she hastens over to the athletic center, a large grouping of stations that takes up half of the massive room.

"So," I say in my softest, quietest voice I can muster. "What do you want to do Sigma?"

She doesn't respond, jumping up and letting go of my hand at the sound of a large bark of laughter from the massive Career boy.

"Damn," the boy's district partner laughs. "I knew it would be easy to scare these little brats, but I didn't realize that even laughing apparently triggers PTSD in these losers."

"Aww, what's wrong, girl?" He taunts, taking a few steps towards us, Sigma immediately hiding behind me as I instinctively cover her up. "Don't worry, your death will be painful, but you won't be feeling much of anything for too long."

"Edgy," I snort, taking a confident step forward and meeting the man in the middle of our two groups, having to look up a solid foot at the giant.

"Very funny," he replies in kind.

"Thanks," I smile widely, holding my hand up for a high-five. "I have a bit of a reputation."

He just stares at me dumbfounded, and I frown for a moment. "What? Not a high-five person, how about a fist pound. . ."

He swats away my hand as I put it up again, and I swear I hear a snort of laughter from one of the girls in his group, though he seems too focused in on me to notice. "Keep laughing it up, funny boy, cause the moment we get in that arena: my hands are around your neck."

"Kinky," I laugh, giving him a shoulder nudge that he quickly recoils from. This time, nearly his entire alliance breaks out in suppressed laughter, and my smile widens a little bit, even with a man capable of literally snapping me in half seething in front of me.

"You know what," he whispers, leaning in so close to me that I can feel his breath on me. "Never mind about the choking, I'll be sure to make sure it's _much_ more painful than that."

"Hey man," I back up, holding up my hands. "I'm not into that BDSM stuff, but you do you, alright? Be proud."

This time he just snorts, cracking his neck as he stares me down. "Keep on laughing," he mutters, turning around and stomping back to his group.

"Thanks!" I shout after him, waving and flashing a beaming smile. "It was nice meeting you!"

I'm a bit sad that I don't get any response this time, but I shrug it off and turn to Sigma, only to lurch back in surprise as I realize that she's been directly behind me the entire time. I guess for some reason I didn't imagine that she would move at all on her own.

She is now though, and as I crouch down to try to talk to her, she wraps me up in a hug before I get the chance, and as hard as it is for me to do, I clamp my mouth shut. Sometimes, silence can say so much more than words can.

 **Hailey Hills, 13, District One**

 **Morning, May 27th, Year 101**

 **Floor Zero, Training Center**

Horatio is still _pissed_. I gotta thank that Five boy, he's making things a hell of a lot more entertaining than I was expecting. Bullying little kids isn't exactly my jam, but egging on a hulking psychopath with some massive insecurities? Good times. It's almost like I'm back in the academy again, with a bunch of overly confident pricks all either vying for control, or not so subtly trying to get each other to fight.

Merrium and Unity would almost be tolerable if they weren't total assholes, and McKenna wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't such a power-hungry freak. Horatio. . . well, there's not really anything good to say there. He's fun to piss off though, so that's one bonus. More than I can say about a lot of academy kids. But then again, with academy kids I also knew that they _probably_ wouldn't try to kill me once training was over. And even then, it wasn't like any of those assholes were dangerous, but Horatio. . . he may be dumb, but he's deadly as they get. Six and a half feet and two-hundred fifty pounds is nothing to laugh at.

"You seem like you've been having a great time, One," Unity mentions in that off-hand, snooty voice of hers.

"Yeah," I grunt as I throw a knife at the target, striking the outer circle. "Having a fucking fantastic time training your prodigal ass."

"Try hitting a circle closer to the center before you talk, honey," she says, throwing a knife with all her might, only to have it hit the target handle-first and bounce to the ground. She holds up a hand to me. "Don't even say it."

"I don't need to," I mutter, flicking the other knife towards the target, hitting the outer circle again.

"Throwing knives are for circus clowns anyways, why don't you show me a weapon that I'll actually use, like a gun."

"Be my guest, I'm sure Horatio would _love_ to give you some pointers on proper shooting technique. Heck, I bet everyone else in this alliance is just _thrilled_ at the idea of teaching you to use a weapon, and any of them would gladly be willing to slow themselves down to teach you."

"Oh, shut up as if you want to teach me. You're just being bitchy cause Horatio put you in your sorry ass place and basically told you that you're as worthless as an untrained girl."

"Fuck off," I spit at her, shoving her out of my way. I know that Galavant wants me in the Career alliance, but I'm not sure how I'm supposed to make it through training with them without stabbing one of these assholes.

"Where you going, baby girl?" She taunts. "Running off to beg your little puppy crush for forgiveness?"

The world around me freezes, my feet scraping to a stop against the floor as I clench my fists, fingernails digging into my palms as I slowly turn to face her, everything else surrounding her just a muted blur. "What?"

"Oh, you don't know," she says in that stupid-ass condescending voice of hers. "Turns out the Capitol is recording us all twenty-four seven now, they broadcasted some of the early highlights this morning before training. You're _heartbreaking_ _love story_ was the talk of the town. I bet you're already in _all_ the hottest gossip tabloids. I can see the headlines now, District One girl professes undying love for-"

She doesn't finish her sentence, my body colliding with hers as I tackle her to the ground, her body thudding against the hard floor as I grab her by the shirt, holding up a fist as I hoist her head up off of the floor, her eyes dizzily blinking as she attempts to catch her breath. As much as every bone in my body wants to bring down my fist on her pretty little face and break that stupid-ass nose of hers, something stops me from doing it, my fist clenching and unclenching. I'm aware of my breathing now, a ragged, feral sound as I desperately pant, my hair a wild mess that covers over my right eye.

I can hear footsteps running towards us, and I roughly set her down on the floor, climbing up to my feet just as trainers come to pry me off. "I'm fucking fine," I tell them. "Stop fucking feeling me up."

The hands drop pretty quickly after that, a medical trainer coming to check on Unity, even though she's clearly fine, immediately being able to climb to her feet with no injuries but a bruised ego that she hides through a snide glare.

"What the fuck was that about?" Horatio roars, approaching me with his ear protection hanging by his neck and-admittedly scarily- his gun from the station still clutched tightly in his hand. Thankfully one of the nearby trainers rips it away from him quickly, and he doesn't even seem to notice, his rage fully honed in on me. "You better check your place, One. You step out of line and your nothing but a corpse."

"I'd like to see you fucking try," the words come out before I can stop them, and as dumb as I honestly know it is to say it, I don't really give a fuck anymore. I'm tired of letting assholes like him just walk over me. I don't need him and his stupid Career alliance to win. He's just like the rest of the jackasses back home, and it's not like I ever needed any of them.

"Excuse me?" He asks, more in disbelief than anger.

"Why don't you clean the wax out of your ears so you can hear me clearly," I taunt him, feeling a rush of confidence overtaking me, the training center around me disappearing, morphing into one of the academies back in One. I'm not some pet for some psychotic asshole to boss around, one way or another I'm doing this by myself.

"Do you want to die, kid?" He spits at me. He won't even call me by my name, that's how little he thinks of me. I'm just a number to him.

"Sounds better than spending another minute listening to you, jackass."

Horatio pauses at that, a smile appearing after a long moment. He leans in close to me, just inches from my face, staring me down in the eyes, slightly unnerving me, as much as I try to shake off the feeling. "Well then, since I feel bad about having to kill little girls, I'll tell you what, once I'm victor and giving your eulogy, you have anything you want me to tell them?"

I feel the confidence welling back up in me, fused with a burning hatred of the man in front of me. I know that the rest of the room is watching us, waiting for me to back down, get told off, back down from this psychotic fucking brute. Nobody else in this room believes that I'm anything more than a dumb little kid writing her own death wish. And this asshole. . . that creepily long stare that he's giving, trying to get into my head, make me feel like just an ant under his boot ready to be squashed.

Every single day you get a thousand animalistic impulses, irrational decisions that you shake off after a seconds thought. But the pounding in my head, the dead silence in this room, the rage coursing through my veins, that smug smile plastered on this assholes face. . . .

Before I can even process what I'm doing, my body is stepping forward, grasping at one of his fingers before either of us have any idea what's happening, my hands working on autopilot as they harshly jerk and twist his finger, a short scream accompanying the snapping sound of his finger as I harshly kick him in the groin, shoving him back for good measure as I'm immediately wrapped up and held back by a cluster of trainers. I'm seeing the world in red, and the wall of trainers leaves Horatio barely visible, but I find enough of a gap to lock eyes with him, the fucker writhing on the ground and clutching his contorted finger.

"Hailey Hills," I shout out at him, jerking away from the trainers as they attempt to hold me back. Everything is a blur, but through it I can still see his eyes, staring up at me, meeting mine for just a moment. "Tell them Hailey Hills is the little girl that _broke your_ _fucking finger!_ "

 **Sigma Krell, 9, District Five**

 **Lunch, May 27th, Year 101**

 **Floor Zero Cafeteria, Training Center**

Levi reminds me of Theta. He has ever since I heard him laugh on the train. Before this morning I hated that so much. I couldn't even look at him, it hurt too much to just even think of it. But before he only reminded me of Theta because he had that same dorky laugh, but after this morning. . . it almost feels like he really is Theta, just in a new body, coming to the Games with me to keep me safe. But right now, while I wait at the table for him to get us some lunch, he isn't the one that my eyes are glued to.

No, I'm paying attention to the girl, I think it was Hailey that she shouted out, it was a bit hard to hear with Levi trying to block my ears the moment that the man started screaming. She got dragged away by a bunch of trainers, while a few other ones tried to fix the man's finger. She was gone for a while, but now she's finally being let back in, a few trainers sternly talking to her before she yanks away from them and walks to the lunch line. Most of the kids around her shrink back, and even the ones who don't look scared of her are staying away from her, and it doesn't take long to figure out why.

The man, who's finger is fully wrapped up, is staring daggers at the girl, ignoring all of his friends. But while everyone else looks terrified of him, I'm not scared of him anymore. As long as I have Levi with me, he can't do anything.

"Whatchya looking at?" Levi asks, a smile in place as he sets down a bowl of sugary cereal in front of me, already beginning to dig into his own bowl. I just keep on looking, and in between bites of cereal he follows my gaze, his smile widening when he sees who I'm looking at. "What are ya thinking?"

I shrug, switching my gaze down to my cereal, munching down on a spoonful of the colorful balls of sugar. My eyes peek up at him, and I smile a little bit at the knowing expression on his face, raising an eyebrow as he glances back at Hailey before turning to me. "That was pretty cool, wasn't it?"

Gulping down the cereal, I nod my head, trying to keep my smile from spreading too far, that goofy grin of his making it hard not to.

"We'd make a killer combo, eh? The Career humiliating crew, I can see the headlines now."

Rolling my eyes, I go back to focusing on my lunch, while Levi leans back in his chair, looking around the room. His foot is tapping loudly against the floor, and he looks like he's in pain to even be sitting still for a minute, another thing that makes it so I can't help but be reminded of my brother. Luckily, he isn't making _too_ much noise, now that people are talking a lot more. The Careers are all being really loud, aside from the man with the broken finger, and the other girl my age is crazily giggling, poking her dad in the shoulder every time he glances away for a moment. But aside from them and one other duo of girls that I don't recognize, everyone is sitting by themselves.

Levi looks upset about this, frowning about as widely as I've ever seen him before, and bringing a hand up to his chin thoughtfully. I squint at him, trying to figure out what in the world he's thinking about, but I never get the chance to even guess.

Hailey is walking by, head bowed and her face a weird mixture of anger and embarrassment, and Levi hops up in front of her so suddenly that she just about crashes into him, barely managing to stop her plate from falling to the ground.

She lets out a deep sigh, stepping back and looking up at Levi in frustration. "What the-" she pauses for a moment once her eyes land on him, and after she quickly glances over at me for a second, she lets out another, softer sigh, turning back to face Levi. "What?"

"Sorry 'bout that," Levi chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck and shrugging. "Didn't mean to get in your way."

"Well, what did you mean to do?" She asks sharply.

Levi holds his hands up defensively, not put off by her anger as he puts up a friendly smile. "Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to sit with us."

Hailey softens up at that, the sharp expression dropping from her face as she glances behind her back, rolling her shoulders and glancing back at Levi with an uneasy look. "Why?"

He shrugs. "I dunno, I turned around and you were the first person I saw."

She snorts. "Well, at least your honest about it." She pauses for a moment, nervously glancing behind her again.

"We got cereal," Levi says with a grin, meekly holding up a bowl to her.

She smiles for a moment, and almost looks ready to reach out and take it, but she seems to pause at the last second. Darting her eyes over to the man again, she shakes her head. "No thanks," she mutters softly, turning and quickly walking away without another word.

Levi frowns, and for the first time he seems to be actually upset. Something about it all just feels wrong, seeing him so sad only makes me feel even crummier, any tiny bit of happiness I had disappearing. He props his elbow up on the table, giving an expression that's almost. . . worried? I can't figure out what he's thinking, but all that I do know is that isn't anything good, and that just gives me a pit in my stomach.

As I glumly go in for a bite of food, the plastic spoon Levi got for me bends as it digs against the bowl, and an idea hatches in my head. A slight smile spreads over my lips as I load a ball of cereal into my spoon, flicking it back and watching the ball thump against Levi's forehead.

The startled look on his face sends me into a fit of laughter, as he jumps backwards, arms flailing as he nearly falls out of his chair. He seems confused for a second before his eyes lock on me, jokingly giving me a harsh glare. While I'm giggling too hard to pay any attention, he sneakily throws a ball of cereal back at me, hitting me in the cheek as I flinch back, shrieking in-between giggles. He doesn't get much time to laugh back though, as I quickly reach for a handful and throw it his way.

The two of us are both in an all out war, ducking under the table, using chairs for cover, and giggling too hard to actually hit each other the entire time. Even when our ammo is depleted, we both stay on the floor, using the pieces from the ground to pelt each other. For a fraction of a second I'm aware that the entire room of people can see us, but before anything can come of it, a bit of cereal drills me right in the nose, causing a booming laugh and fist pump from Levi.

And just like that those thoughts are erased, sugary crumbs in my hand as I run up to Levi, dumping it into his hair. He yelps and crab walks backwards, trying to push me away by throwing a barrage of cereal at me, but nothing stops me until I eventually collapse onto the ground. I'm giggling too hard to even walk anymore, laughing so hard that it hurts, left clutching onto my stomach, until the entire world around me disappears, and every little worry, fear, and sadness is invisible. A picture perfect image of the world.

One just waiting to be shattered.

* * *

 **A/N: And let the drama commence. I'm using the Tracey format for training, where every tribute gets one POV during training, and each chapter is dedicated to one alliance. On top of that, there will be other POVs sprinkled in before and after training, so just because you see a tribute doesn't mean you're done seeing them until the interviews.**

 **As always, hope y'all like the chapter, and I'll see you guys next week, as we visit the Career alliance(who I'm still trying to come up with a name for, because I like my alliance names to mean something, and Careers is just a bit dull) during the afternoon of Day One.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Thoughts on the _shattered_ alliance?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite POV?**

 **Alliances(only updated with confirmed, on-screen alliances)**

 **Careers:** Horatio, Unity, Merrium, McKenna

 **Ghosts:** Clyde, Rain

 **Shattered:** Levi, Sigma


	15. Cigarette Daydreams and Misery Business

"Cigarette Daydreams and Misery Business"

* * *

 **A/N: Me and randomly disappearing for months, then coming back and updating twice a week. Name a more iconic duo. I'll wait.**

 **Real talk though, We're getting into the really good stuff now, and writing has just been really easy for me lately, so hopefully we can keep this momentum going! Hope you guys enjoy this chapter as we look at McKenna and Merrium in the Career alliance.**

* * *

 _~I'm in the business of misery_

 _Let's take it from the top_

 _She's got a body like an hourglass, it's ticking like a clock_

 _It's a matter of time before we all run out~_

* * *

 **McKenna Bay, 17, District Four** _  
_

 **Lunch, Sunday, May 27th**

 **Floor Zero Cafeteria, Training Center**

Carolina's advice to just not join the Career alliance this year is seeming more and more intelligent with every passing moment. Four hours in and we've already lost a member, with our 'leader' seething over his broken index finger. Unity is still dead weight, who Horatio is only keeping in the alliance to avoid being outnumbered. Then there's Merrium who's. . . well, at least I know what I'm getting from her. Especially now that Horatio has lost all interest in flirting with her. Lust is a hell of a drug, but hate is an even stronger one.

While the broken finger will hardly slow Horatio down physically, he's lost his focus already, and everyone in our alliance knows it. He isn't fit to be leader. Even he knows it, even though there's no way he admits that and relinquishes control of the alliance. Unity is too scared of him to turn away either, so unless I can get Merrium firmly behind me then whether or not I deserve to be the leader means nothing.

"This is getting out of hand, and you know it," I tell Merrium, keeping my voice low enough that neither of the Two pair can hear from across the table.

"I don't know," she laughs, shoveling a fork-full of food into her mouth. "I think it's pretty entertaining still."

"It won't be so fun once we're actually in the arena."

"I'm gonna have to disagree on that one."

"Merrium," I hiss.

"Ugh, you're such a buzzkill. You're gonna be dead in a few weeks, don't you at least want to enjoy some juicy drama in the meantime?"

"We're _all_ going to be dead soon if you don't focus up."

She shrugs, glancing over at Horatio. "I'm not worried, he's all talk."

"Have you read his report?' I ask, already fully knowing the answer.

"I don't care what stats you've read about him, he just got his finger broken by a pre-teen," she scoffs. "I mean, look at her," she nudges me on the shoulder, pointing to a table where Hailey is eating alone. "She's, what? Five feet tall? Eighty pounds soaking wet?"

"You're underestimating our competition here," I warn her.

"And you're overestimating them," she dully states, giving a bored eye roll. "As much shit as I give you, you're the only other real Career in this entire center. It's just a bunch of posers and wannabees getting over hyped by the Capital because of drama."

"Horatio was considered the best Career tribute to ever come out of an academy since Galavant, and that was back when he was _eighteen._ He's nowhere near as stupid as he seems, and pound for pound he's the best fighter to ever be in the Games."

"He's too cocky to win," she says through a mouth full of food. When I raise an eyebrow at her for that, she just rolls her eyes. "Oh, shut up."

"And even if you think that you've got him twirled around your finger, which I can promise you that you don't, we've still got competition out of the pack, especially with Hailey gone now."

"Please."

"There's two grown men who have murdered before in here, and the One pair are the very definition of dark horse tributes. Did you see Prestige running the speed course earlier today?"

"So she's fast-"

"Her 40 yard dash time was four point thirty.

She pauses for a moment, scanning the room and glancing at Prestige for a moment, giving her an odd look. "Okay, so she's really fast, whatever. Still doesn't mean she's a threat."

"Much smaller threats have won in years with much bigger packs."

"Yeah, but those packs didn't have me," she smirks.

"I guarantee you every single career that has died has thought that exact same thing."

Oddly enough, this finally seems to be the thing that gets to her, the carelessness she had been throwing around for the rest of our conversation dissipating, her expression showing a hint of worry. "Alright," she says in a quiet voice. "Even if you are right about there being some threats out there, which I'm not saying that there are, what would you suggest we do about it? You wanna challenge Horatio on his authority? I'm a _lot_ easier to reason with than he is, and you aren't exactly selling me, honey."

"All that I'm asking," I tell her, leaning in close to make absolutely positive knowing else can hear, even then picking my words very carefully. "Is that in the arena, we watch out for each other first, and the pack _second_."

As I lean back, she gives me a knowing smile, nodding her head. " _Now_ you are speaking my language, sweetheart."

"Alright," Horatio sighs from across the table, slamming his fists on the table, startling me for a moment. "Let's talk strategy," he says, slowing my racing heart. There's no way he heard anything that we just said, and even if he did, he wouldn't be strategic enough to keep it to himself.

"Anything in particular you have in mind?" I question, putting him on the spot.

He falters for a moment, but quickly recovers, coughing into his fist. "Yes, actually. We have to figure out what to do about District One."

"There's nothing to do," Merrium quickly answers, and it takes everything in me to suppress the smile that fights to come out. Merrium has a lot more tact than she shows, that might be something to look out for. "They're both on their own, and neither of them pose much of a threat."

"I don't care whether or not if they pose a threat," Horatio growls. "What I asked is how we're going to deal with them."

"What happens with them is your business, not ours," I tell him. "I'm sure that you can handle a few girls without our help."

"Fine," he mutters grumpily. "But don't expect for me to come running to your aid if you're in need."

"I wouldn't expect it," I tell him calmly. "Moving on to actual strategy though, I think we need to talk about some of the stations that are out this year."

"What," Unity scoffs. "You think there's something just a _little_ off-putting about _physics_ being a station this year?"

"It could easily just be a dummy station," Horatio interjects. "But. . . it's still odd."

"And in-combat maneuverability is apparently the most important station for this years Games." I add in. "That. . . doesn't really make any sense to me."

Merrium meanwhile just picks at her fingernails and shrugs. "Physics, maneuverability, a shit ton of speed stations, a quarter quell with a stupidly high budget, they're probably gonna send us into space or something."

"No, I don't think so. . ." I shake my head. "There's a load of gun stations, so it can't be in zero gravity."

"Maybe they're gonna drug us up," Unity suggests. "Make us all into super-humans, with super powers and all that shit. That would explain the maneuvering station. It's gotta be weird to try to control yourself when you're suddenly able to use super speed."

"That's. . . possible," Horatio shrugs. "But I don't know, this quell only became a thing a year ago, there's no way they could have put something that insane together so quickly."

"Don't put anything past them too quickly," I warn him.

"Well," Horatio counters, "under that same line of thinking, the arena could be a space station, with the guns designed to work in zero-gravity, or different parts of the station sectioned off and having artificial gravity."

"This whole thing is stupid to argue about anyways," Merrium groans. "We can talk about it with Carolina and Dewey tonight, and let them try to figure it out, that's their job. Let us just focus on the twenty other brats in this room for now."

"Seriously, this is sooo boring," Unity yawns.

Horatio and I exchange a look, and after a moment I let out a sigh, shaking my head. "Fine, we'll talk about it at dinner, lunch is about to be over anyways."

"Okay then," Horatio nods. "We'll meet back up down here at seven-forty-five to talk about the arena then, don't be late."

"Same goes for you," I reply tensely, the air around us thickening as I stare him down, refusing to back down from his glare.

"Sure thing," he finally says, giving me a conceited smile as he turns and stalks away, leaving his trey of food on the table as he leaves the cafeteria, leaving the rest of us all sitting and watching him go.

Unity just shakes her head. "This isn't exactly what I expected out of the Careers," she mutters.

"Get used to it honey," Merrium laughs. "Welcome to the misery business"

 **Merrium Solera, 19, District Four**

 **Late Afternoon, Sunday, May 27th**

 **Floor Zero, Training Center**

These Games are almost too easy. Both Horatio and McKenna are too focused on one another to realize that I'm even here, and while that's slightly insulting, it isn't the worst thing in the world. Both of them think that I'm full on their side, and just see me as a tool to overtake each other. Won't be too hard to get them to fight each other and finish off the remains. It's already an inevitability, and I could just sit back and watch it all happen, but still. . . mingling around with them is fun. Especially McKenna, I almost feel bad that she has to die, she's just so fun to mess with.

But there's plenty of other people to mess with in the meantime. I just got done spending some time at the knives station, which is a fun station to be at, but not when no other tributes are there. A few of the other combat stations look somewhat promising, the hand-to-hand combat station has Hailey and Prestige awkwardly avoiding each other, while Blaze takes out his frustration on a dummy. The in-combat maneuverability station could be a good choice to mess with the Five pair, but the trainer there seems to really like the boy, so I doubt she'd allow me to scare them too much. There's also the other Twelve boy, Ephraim, at the saber station, but he doesn't seem like the type to get intimidated. No point wasting my time.

Other than that though, nobody else is at a combat station, so really the only option I have is hand-to-hand, even if that isn't exactly my biggest strength. Doesn't make much of a difference though, the boy from Twelve can't control his anger, and the One girls are twigs. Not exactly the stiffest competition, regardless of what McKenna thinks.

Right when I get to the station, both of the One girls give me harsh looks, while the Twelve boy just ignores me and continues to lay into the punching bag. Prestige breaks off her glare after a moment, focusing back on the trainer giving her a lesson, but Hailey just continues to stare my way, tapping her foot while she waits for a trainer to fight with.

Ignoring her, I walk up to the trainer instructing Prestige, shoving the small girl to the side as I smile up at the man. "Hello, I'd like to spar with your highest level trainer, please."

His stern look he had for interrupting his instructions quickly melt away to a smile as he nods his head in excitement. "Right away," he tells me, muttering something unintelligible into the microphone on his shoulder, then turning back towards Prestige. The girl does her best to ignore me, but there's no hiding that annoyed side-glare, and meanwhile Hailey still hasn't broken her eyes off of me.

While I wait, another man walks up to me, a sorry expression on his face. "Hello, tribute, currently our level five trainer is on a short break, if you want to wait, he should be back in five minutes, but you'd be queued behind Miss Hailey Hills, who has also requested to spar with him. Alternatively, you could spar with the level four trainer right now-"

"Whoever I can fight right now, send them out," I cut him off, flipping my hair and huffing.

"Yes, m'am. For your safety, we offer protective gear such as body armor, gloves-"

"No thanks," I smile at him, dropping it off my lips immediately after and brushing past him, walking into the elevated ring, visible by the entire combat center.

Thankfully, I'm not left waiting there with nothing to do for too long before they send out my opponent, a strong looking man who has just a few inches on me. He looks tough, but isn't exactly a mountain of a man, looking more like the criminal from Six than Horatio. Size may be an advantage, but a few inches and a couple dozen pounds isn't anything natural talent can't overcome.

He walks into the medium-sized circle, smiling at me and in one breath explaining the long list of rules the station has, a lecture I've heard a million times before and zone out entirely. It basically boils down to: no eye-gouging, you can only use your legs, arms, and head, and to respect tap-out rules. Common sense stuff that they only have to explain for the street urchins who don't understand sneaking knives into a fight isn't okay.

"Good luck," I tell him after he explains his rules, echoing his wish.

A moment later a gong rings off, and both of us take a tentative step towards each other, only given about six feet of distance between us to maneuver around. Both of us start circling, and I'm sure he'd be glad to never make the first move, so I jump in first, smirking as I feel multiple pairs of eyes on me. I feint a dive towards his right side, and follow it up with a swift kick to the side that catches him off guard, sending him stumbling backwards, nearly falling out of the circle already.

He catches himself in time though, and mutters a compliment of my feint before launching an attack of his own, swinging out with his right fist. I easily dodge under the punch, but he manages to connect with his left fist, hitting me square in the gut. It isn't too hard of a hit though, and while he's off balance I retaliate with a punch to the jaw that connects so roughly that it leaves my fist aching as both of us again stumble away from one another.

The gut punch didn't hurt much at first, but the aching isn't dissipating, leaving me a bit out of breath, while he grabs at his cheek, a red bruise forming. Not wanting to give him any time to recover, and wanting to get out of this ring as soon as possible, I charge forward at him, going in shoulder first as I yet again seem to catch him off guard, connecting squarely in the chest, leaving him tumbling to the ground. He's just barely inside the circle now, and I waste no time pinning him down to the ground. With my knee firmly on his chest, he doesn't even attempt to fight it out, tapping out and complimenting me on my decision making through bated breaths.

"Thanks," I smirk at him, flipping my hair back and strutting off the mat, winking at Prestige as I step off. She doesn't look overly scared, but there's definitely some nervousness there, probably realizing just how far behind she really is. I've been training for my entire life, if they have any thoughts that three days can even begin to hold up to that, then they're delusional.

I almost consider walking up and chatting with her, just to rub in that fact a little bit more, maybe even give her some pointers to help her realize how little she knows. But, a much more interesting prospect pops up before I get the chance, as Hailey is called up for her spar with the level five trainer. I didn't expect much of a discrepancy between level four and five, but. . . there definitely is one. While the trainer I fought barely cracked six foot, this one is a solid six feet four inches, only a couple inches smaller than Horatio, and isn't too far behind in weight either. While he's not a mountain like Horatio is, he's still a big dude, and the image of Hailey next to him is hilarious.

She's a foot and a half shorter than him, and _at least_ a hundred pounds behind him, unless she's packing a _lot_ more muscle than I'm giving her credit for. All that being said, I gotta give the girl props, she may be _wayyy_ over matched, but she's got balls of steel to go up against him without showing any fear. It's too bad, she probably could've won if she went in a few years later, but hey, life sucks sometimes, I'm not gonna lose any sleep over it.

The trainer looks almost confused that this little girl is going up against him, and scratches the back of his neck as he confirms the match up with her, something that just seems to piss her off. He backs off pretty quickly though, and after going through all the rules, the gong goes off and the fight begins.

The man looks almost hesitant to fight at first, but Hailey doesn't, immediately diving in and feinting a punch, immediately falling back as the man raises up a defensive block. She's bouncing on her feet as she circles around the ring, while the much bigger man just shuffles his feet along, each step seeming to pound against the matted floor.

She lurches out again with a fake punch, and the trainer attempts to abuse her feint this time, reaching out and grabbing at her arm, though she easily tugs away, and as a parting gift gives him a powerful kick to the gut that barely sends him back an inch. It's hard not to laugh at that, and I don't even try to stop myself, halfway hoping that Hailey hears me and just gets more pissed off.

She stays fully focused on the fight though, continuing to skirt around the edges of the circle, while the man makes his way to the center, until she's literally tip-toeing the line, just out of reach of the man's long grasp. After a minute of this going on, she makes a sudden cut to the other direction, quickly kicking out at his ankles. It would have been a good move, if she wasn't less than half of his weight, but instead he manages to stop himself from falling to the ground, and grabs her by the shirt, lifting her up in the air and looking ready to toss her out of the ring.

He gets a bit lazy with it though, and she takes advantage, kicking him harshly in the groin, a gasp of air escaping from him as he lets her go, staggering backwards. Once she has the advantage, she doesn't let up, charging forward and kicking him again, the giant stumbling backwards as his face turns red. Cleats to the junk, that's gotta be a painful one. He's still not done though, sending out a wild punch that somehow connects with Hailey's cheek, the sheer power from his fist sending her flying backwards and onto the ground, thudding against the mat.

There's blood in her mouth, and with how big of a hit that was I wouldn't be surprised if she broke her jaw, but she manages to stumble up to her feet, wiping the blood from her chin as she glares him down, the man barely even staying on his feet. She charges at him again, this time dodging under his wild punches and sweeping around to his backside and jumping onto his back. Once there she keeps a death grip on his neck, refusing to let go no matter how much he swings around.

When he stops for a moment she yanks at his hair, and I grimace as I swear I see her rip out hair with how hard she pulls, the man screaming so loud that just about every other tribute in the area stops to glance at what's going on, just in time to see him fall backwards, seemingly trying to land on top of her, though she easily rolls out of the way. The moment he hits the ground she puts her foot on his chest, and a whistle blows from the referee, declaring the match over.

Unlike my match, there's no complimentary exchanges, Hailey ignoring him and immediately hopping down from the elevated stage, intentionally bumping her shoulder against me as she walks by.

I don't even get angry, just laughing and shaking my head as she walks by.

Maybe this will be a bit more interesting than I thought.

* * *

 **A/N: And there's the Career alliance, AKA 'Misery Business.' I thought of naming this chapter "Careers and Misery Business," but the pun game was too strong. Is that a pun? I don't think it is actually.**

 **Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed the slightly shorter chapter, with only two tributes this time. Next chapter we'll be checking on the mentors with Day 1 night, specifically Glory, Audra, and Carolina(the D4 mentor for McKenna). While these are from mentors POV, they'll be pretty tribute-centered, mostly just about alliances solidifying and all that jazz.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Which one of the Careers do you think you would be most like if you went into the Games?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Thoughts on 'Misery Business?' Do you think they'll stay together, or crumble? If they do fall apart, will it be early in the Games, before the Games, later on? Let me know your thoughts!**

 **Alliances(only updated with confirmed, on-screen alliances)**

 **Misery Business:** Horatio, Unity, Merrium, McKenna

 **Ghosts:** Clyde, Rain

 **Shattered:** Levi, Sigma


	16. Day 2: Ghosts and Superheroes

"Ghosts and Superheroes"

* * *

 **(Guess who's back, Back again, David's back, tell a friend, guess who's back, guess who's back, guess who's back, du-nu-nu)**

 **A/N:** **Hey, so I'm back again. That's cool. In order to make up for the lost time, I'm trimming down the amount of pre-games chapters a bit. Every tribute is still going to get a training POV, as well as one other misc. POV, either Private Sessions, Interviews, or the party. So yeah, enjoy this chapter as we take a look at the _Ghosts_ alliance, with Rain and Clyde! I'm a bit rusty, but hopefully it came out coherent enough!**

* * *

 _~All the life she has seen_

 _All the meaner side of me_

 _They took away the prophet's dream_

 _For a profit on the street~_

* * *

 **Rain Kaniff, 8, District Six**

 **Breakfast, Monday, May 28th**

 **Floor Zero, Training Center**

It's been a boring few days of training. In a way, it almost felt as if nothing had happened for months now. But Rain knew that what dad was working on was important, and she was glad just being around him for now, even if the stations he brings us to are the most boring places in the entire room. Yesterday started off fun with me dragging him over to the climbing and then swimming stations, but after lunch he told me we needed to start focusing on "important" stations like guns and traps and shelters. I tried to argue that swimming would be important if the entire arena was water, but he didn't even respond to me after that.

At least after training last night we got to just have fun for a little bit, even if dad only let me stay up for _fifteen_ minutes after dinner. That was enough time to build an awesome pillow and blanket fort though, even if it was already destroyed by the time I woke up this morning. That soured my mood a bit, but staying upset after the breakfast that they give us here is impossible. Yogurt, strawberries, pancakes, and even a little bit of chocolate that Atlas snuck to me under the table while my dad wasn't looking. . . I think I'd be perfectly happy eating all day instead of coming down here.

"So, where are we going today?" I ask excitedly as we step off the elevator and into the training room. "I saw this one really fun looking station-" Dad gives me a look, and I quickly cough, scratching the back of my neck. "I mean. . . super useful training station-"

"I was actually thinking that we'd head back to the shelter station, I didn't totally master that before we had to leave yesterday."

" _Got_ to leave," I joke. "And I still think that was totally useless."

"You're right," he yawns, stretching out his arms. "Who needs a shelter when you can sleep out in the grass with the bugs and cold?"

"Sarcasm is really funny," I tease him.

He smiles at that, but continues to walk towards the shelter station, and I know there won't be any convincing him to go somewhere that won't put me to sleep. Normally I'd be fine with a midday nap, but those beds they give us are so comfy that I feel more wide awake now than I ever have before. Guess today will be a lot more of watching the other tributes who are actually doing exciting stuff.

I don't blame my dad for trying to do important stations. He wants to make sure that he can keep both of us safe, and even if I'll tease him about it I know that what he's doing is important. The two of us gotta stick together, no matter what. I've overheard the late night talks my dad has been having with Atlas, when they think I'm already asleep in my bed, and I know what they're planning on doing. They both think that only one person can win, but I don't care what anyone else says, I'm not going home without my dad. They can't take him away from me. Not again.

Just the thought of that sends a chill down my spine, and just as the two of us sit down at the station, I reach over to him and hug him tightly, surprising him as he glances down and smiles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

"Things'll get better, Rain, I promise," he smiles down at me.

"I know," I murmur back, just holding on tighter and closing my eyes as my head uses his body as a pillow. As comfy as those beds are, it's hard to fall asleep early with all the cool stuff in my room, and now that my eyes are closed, sleep seems like a pretty nice thing right now, and it doesn't take long for me to doze off.

Sometimes, after a night of sleep, you can wake up and just _know_ that whatever you were dreaming of was bad. You can't remember anything that happened, but you still feel sick to your stomach, worried, and completely helpless. Like the worst thing in the entire world just happened and you don't even know what it was. That's the feeling that I get when I wake up after what must have been a longer nap than I was expecting. I'm not leaning up against dad anymore, instead I'm curled up on a wooden bench that suddenly is super hard and uncomfortable. Dad is still at the same shelter station, in the middle of a conversation with the trainer, turned away from me completely.

I'm halfway in between the station dad is at and another one of the boring survival stations, fire starting. I glance over there and my eyes connect with another one of the tributes who I recognize a little bit. She's one of the older girls, and I remember thinking that she looked really sweet when I saw her on at the chariots. She looked really nervous and scared, and so I wanted to go over to her and say hi, but dad thought that was a bad idea.

When her eyes meet mine she offers me a kind smile, and I smile back to her and wave. She giggles a little bit and starts to go back to working on the fire she started, but keeps on peeking over at me. I glance over at dad, and see that he's still totally focused on his station. The bench is starting to hurt to sit on anyways, and so I pop up onto my feet, and really, since I don't want to distract dad while he's working or anything, I might as well just go to the fire station. Who knows, maybe I'll even learn a super cool skill that can help us in the arena.

"Hi," I say to the girl cheerfully, plopping down at the chair next to her.

She turns around quickly before turning back to face me, offering a shy smile. "Hey there," she says in a slow, sincere voice.

"I liked your chariot outfit, it was really pretty," I compliment her.

"Aw, thanks," she smiles. "I loved yours too."

"Yeah, it was pretty cool," I giggle. "My name is Rain," I reach out my hand to her, and she smiles widely at me, shaking my hand.

"Piccaboo, but most people just call me Peeka."

"That name is _soo_ cool!" I exclaim, causing her to giggle just a little bit. "My dad just named me after the _worst_ weather in the entire world, he shoulda named me after a game instead."

"Aww, but Rain is such a sweet name!"

"Yeah, I know," I yawn, shaking myself awake. "Not as cool as Peeka though."

"Maybe," she smiles, and I smile back at her, my morning suddenly feeling a lot warmer. With all the yelling and fights and meanness that everybody in here has been showing so far, it feels nice to talk with someone that's so nice. I can't help but wonder if she has any allies yet, I would hope that someone so kind would have everybody wanting to be friends with them, but looking around at the other people in this room- I'm not so sure.

"Hey Peeka?" I ask. "Do you-"

But before I can say anything more, I can hear my dad's voice calling out to me, his feet pounding against the floor as he jogs over to me. "Rain?" He calls out, with worry dripping from his voice.

"Hey dad," I call back to him cheerily, spinning around in my chair to face him and flashing him a smile, though my face quickly turns to confusion when I see the sickeningly worried look on his face.

"Let's head back to the station, alright Rain?" He asks, in a way that tells me it isn't really a question. "You can nap some more if you want."

"It's okay, I was just-"

"Rain," He interrupts me, his voice suddenly deep and serious, his eyes still flashing that worried look as he glances between Peeka and I.

Sighing, I climb up out of my chair, eyes glued to my feet, only glancing up for a moment to flash a smile to Peeka and wave goodbye. She's just frozen still though, my smile only causing her to instantly look away from me and go back to focusing on the pile of twigs and matches in front of her. "Bye Peeka," I mutter under my breath, quiet enough that neither of them hear what I say.

Dad looks a bit guilty at my sudden change of mood, but doesn't say or do anything to change it, instead just gently placing his hand on my shoulder and leading me back to the shelter station. My eyes glance back towards Peeka one last time, but she keeps on focusing on everything except for me, even my dad refusing to meet my gaze when I look up towards him.

 **Clyde Kaniff, 22, District Six**

 **Late Morning, Monday, May 28th**

 **Floor Zero, Training Center**

Nothing hurts me more than the crushed look on Rain's face that's been stuck there for the past half hour. I know that she was making friends with that girl, and was probably going to try to ally up with her or something, but that just isn't an option. I don't care if she's the nicest person in the world, in the Games only one person can win, and nobody else in here deserves to live as much as Rain does. Nobody else can even come close.

A part of me wants to explain this to her, that I'm just trying to protect her. That I'm just trying to keep her safe, in the way that I haven't been able to do for the past three years. But that's not a burden that she deserves to have placed on her. She still thinks that both of us can win, that we can be a happy family back in District Six. I don't think I have it in me to shatter that delusion.

Still though, that knowledge that our time is finite- that the amount of days we have left together can be counted on my hands- that scares me more than I'm willing to admit. It only becomes that much harder when I know that right now, as the two of us sit next to each other, dead silent as we both skim through various poisonous and edible berries and nuts, some of that precious remaining time we have is ticking away, like grains of sand, slowly and steadily escaping through the gaps in my fingers.

How long is it exactly that we'll have left together? The Games start in just three days, and then who knows how long we'll be together in there. Who knows that those days will be ones that I'll want her to remember? The amount of memories that we have a chance to create are getting smaller by the second, and every moment we both sit here, Rain upset and confused and myself unable to find the right words to say, is another moment that we've lost forever.

But as much as I search through my mind, I can't figure out for the life of me what to say. How do I explain all these things to Rain, without completely crushing whatever blind hope she still has left? Luckily, that's not something that I need to figure out.

"I understand," Rain whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.

I turn to face her, and find Rain staring off into space. "Understand what?" I ask her softly.

"That you're just trying to keep me safe," she answers with a sigh, leaning her head onto my shoulder and closing her eyes. "I know that it's just us two in the arena, and that's all that matters."

"Yeah," is all I can say in response, ruffling a hand through her hair.

"She was nice though," she says suddenly, looking up at me.

Sighing, I nod my head." I'm sure she was." I look down at my feet. "There's a lot of nice people out there."

She seems to pause for a moment at that, looking deep in thought before she suddenly looks back up at me. "You don't think that there's a lot of nice people in here? Do you?" There's a near desperation behind her voice, and I know what she's thinking in that little noggin of hers, and that does nothing but worry me.

"I don't know," I answer as honestly as I can.

"Do you want to know?"

That question causes me to pause for a second, and I look down to Rain, a pleading look in her eyes, one that begs me to just tell her that every person in here as a horrible villain, and that we're just the main characters in a movie- fighting off hoards of bad guys that deserve what they get. Real life can be a bitch.

"No."

She sucks in a deep breath, and nods her head. "Neither do I," she chokes out.

I wrap an arm around her shoulder tightly, pulling her in closer to me. "Just the two of us, alright?"

She nuzzles her head in closer, her eyes drifting shut as she nods her head ever so slightly. "Just the two of us."

Looking down at Rain, my daughter, leaned up against me, defenseless and relying on me and nobody else to keep her safe, the full weight of this entire situation rests on my shoulders. But I know, looking at the way she smiles ever so slightly when I ruffle a hand through her hair, that sometimes the most amazing things can come from a terrible lie.

* * *

 **A/N: Hopefully that wasn't terrible, again, been a while since I've been writing. But yeah, hopefully you guys liked the D6 father-daughter duo, and I'll see you next time as we check in on the _Gravity_ alliance. Can you guess who the duo will be?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Which characters do you most want to see interact?**

 **Alliances:**

 **Misery Business:** Horatio, McKenna, Merrium, Unity

 **Shattered:** Levi, Sigma

 **Ghosts:** Clyde, Rain


	17. Gravity and Free Falling

"Gravity and Free Falling"

* * *

 **A/N: Here's the second part of day 2 training, as we meet the Gravity alliance. This is the second to last training chapter, so I hope you guys enjoy! I've had these two characters allying up for a while now, and it was great to finally get to start writing their interactions!**

* * *

 _~I was the moon, you were the sun_

 _I can't seem to shine now that you're gone~_

* * *

 **Picaboo "Peeka" Benner, 17, District Ten**

 **Lunch, Monday, May 28th**

 **Floor Zero Cafeteria, Training Center**

Training is almost half over, and to say that I'm starting to get nervous would be the biggest understatement of my entire life. Kyle has been supportive and all, and he's been trying to get me to find at least one ally, but I just don't know where to start. Half the tributes are too scary to even want to look at, and most of the others already have allies, or don't look like they want anyone else to join them. That girl Rain was adorable and I got my hopes up that maybe I found an ally, but then. . . well, I guess I might just have to give up on getting an ally. After all, who would even want me in their alliance?

Looking over around the room, it seems like I'm the only one who doesn't know what they're doing. There's other kids eating lunch alone, sure, but all of them look like they don't mind being by themselves. I doubt that I'm inspiring that same confidence.

Taking the last bite of my sandwich, I quickly hand my plate off to the dish washers, smiling shyly when the man thanks me. Without wasting any more time I turn and walk out of the lunch room with my head to the floor, avoiding looking at anybody. Kyle told me to keep my head down in training, and he didn't have to tell me it twice.

Now that I'm done with lunch, I don't really know what to do anymore. I spent the morning learning how to start fires and identify edible plants, and I was going to go to the shelter station next- but quickly decide against that when I see one of the Career girls already there. Even just glancing at her jump-starts my heart, terror washing over my body that she's going to march right over here and confront me.

Without paying attention to where I'm going, I quickly move to one of the more secluded, empty stations in the corner of the room. The large sign on top blinks _stealth_ , and there's a large see-through box that's completely dark on the inside, with two trainers chatting by the door. As soon as they see me coming, they shake each others hands and one of them walks away, while the other greets me with a broad smile and a wave.

"Hello," the woman says in a cheery voice. "Welcome to the stealth station, is this your first time here?"

I nod my head. "It looks really interesting!" I compliment, looking over the various instructional posters hung around.

"More importantly, it's extremely useful. Fighting is an eventual necessity in the Games, but a tribute who's mastered stealth can afford to pick their battles wisely, avoiding conflict until they know they have the leg up."

"So what should I do?" I ask her, lighting up at the idea of being able to avoid fights.

"Well, first I'd like to get a starting point for you. If you mind, we'll have you take off your shoes and socks and enter into the black room, where your goal will be to go from the door, to the opposite end of the room to tap the flashing red button, and make it back to the door as quickly and quietly as possible. It's an easy exercise, but it tells us a lot about what your strengths are that we can build on. Does that sound good to you?"

I quickly nod my head, not fully taking in everything she said but not wanting to ask her to repeat herself. "Sounds good to me," I smile.

"Great, then go ahead and leave your shoes and socks here by the door and start whenever you feel ready!" She exclaims, seeming excited about the idea of having a person to help out.

It only takes me a moment to slip off the black shoes and socks and enter into the room, but as soon as I do I realize just how out of my depth I am. The moment that the door closes behind me all of my sight is lost, absolute nothingness ahead of me, my sense of direction completely gone to the point I don't even know where my hands are. I can't help how fast my heart begins to race, and I can't steel myself up enough to walk out into the empty void ahead of me. I turn around and swing open the door, my eyes burning for a moment at the flash of light that greets me.

I bring my hands up to shield my eyes and take a wild step forward, only to find myself colliding into somebody else, both of us stumbling back. I barely catch myself from falling, rapidly blinking until I'm able to see the person in front of me.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, holding a hand over my mouth as the boy in front of me just smiles and dusts off his pants, shrugging.

"It's no big deal, I just wasn't watching where I was going," he laughs.

"No, I should have been more careful," I quickly sputter out. "I-"

"Hey," he cuts me off, looking to barely be holding in laughter. "Don't worry about it, it's fine."

"Okay," I meekly respond, my cheeks flushing red as I quickly turn away, walking away as quickly as I can.

"Wait!" I hear him calling out. Pausing in my tracks, my heart skips a beat as I swallow a lump in my throat, just waiting for him to come marching up to me and yell in my face and-

"You forgot your shoes!" He finishes, and I turn around to see him lifting up the sneakers and socks, giving me a half smirk as he tosses them over to me. I fumble with the shoes for a second before catching them, offering back a grateful smile.

"Thank you, I almost forgot!" I cheerfully thank him, looking down at my feet awkwardly as he continues to stand there, scratching the back of his neck.

"Uh, I'm Ephraim by the way," he takes a step forward, and I flinch back instinctively as he brings his arm up, only for him to leave it hanging in there, looking at me bemusedly.

"Picaboo, but everyone calls my Peeka!" I quickly say with a lilted giggle, taking his hand and shaking it.

He chuckles. "Cool name."

"Thanks," I smile.

We both sit there in silence for a moment, and suddenly I become aware of the fact that I'm sitting here smiling and talking with a _boy_ , and a wave of guilt washes over me. My finger absently fiddles with the gold band on my ring finger, and I open my mouth to tell the boy in front of me that I _really_ have to leave, but he speaks before I get the chance to.

"What's the ring for?" He asks, nodding towards it.

"Engagement ring," I smile awkwardly. "My fiance Deke got it for me. . . he's amazing!" I quickly add in, not wanting him to get any other ideas.

"That's nice, I got someone back home too," he holds up his arm and rolls back his sleeve, revealing a bracelet of beads on his wrist. "Her name is Alita, and she's amazing too," he smiles, a glazed look going over his eyes for a moment that lets me know he means it.

A wave of relief washes over me, and I don't do a very good job at hiding it, letting out a deep breath as the red from my face begins to cool, an easy smile coming onto my lips. This boy has a girlfriend back home that he cares about too, so maybe. . . it wouldn't be a bad thing to ally with him, would it? It's not like either of us would ever even think of flirting or anything, and I'm sure that Deke would want me to find an ally to make sure that I can win! Right? My mind is a complete mess, emotions rushing back and forth and dizzying me as I try to keep up with my thoughts, but luckily Ephraim snaps me out of it.

"So, I was gonna go check out the shelter station and try to see if I could figure that out, would you wanna come with? It's nice to meet somebody who doesn't look like they want to bite my head off," he laughs a bit at that, but the look in his eyes lets me know that he's also being genuine, and I can immediately agree with what he's saying. Every single other person here has been either cold and distant or just outright mean, and now to find somebody who actually seems genuinely kind. . . Deke would want me to feel safe, I'm sure of that. As long as I know my intentions are just to be allies with him, and he knows that too, then well, there's no harm in that, is there?

"Sure!" I reply brightly, making up my mind and resolving myself to it. "I went there a bit yesterday morning, the trainer there is a sweetheart."

"Great," he replies with a broad grin. "You'll have to help me out a bit then."

I smile back at him and nod as we walk off. "It would be my pleasure."

 **Ephraim Kress, 17, District Twelve**

 **Evening, Monday, May 28th**

 **Floor Zero, Training Center**

"I'm not sure about this."

"Come on, it'll be really useful, there's no harm in at least trying is there."

"I don't think it would be very ladylike-"

"Is it more important to be ladylike or alive?"

Peeka pauses at that, feet stalling out as she freezes, and I stop with her, sighing as I realize I may have gone a bit too far. "Sorry, it's just. . . it's the Hunger Games, ya know? You can avoid fighting all you want, but eventually. . . ."

"I know," she says softly, and I know that I'm hit a rough spot with the conversation. Peeka is a sweet girl, naively optimistic and too nice for her own good, but sometimes there's a flash of something darker there, just a quick glimpse because her sunny optimism takes over again. Almost as if on queue, the smile appears back on her face, her eyes lighting up as she continues to walk over to the pistol station. "Well, I don't think I'll wanna try to handle a gun, but I'd love to keep you company while you try it out!"

"Maybe you'll change your mind once we're there," I smile, though I have a feeling that won't be happening. I always knew that down in the southern districts they had that southern charm, ladylike sort of stigma going around, but I never realized just how real it was. It honestly suddenly makes sense why there hasn't been a girl from one of the southern districts that's won in over twenty years.

"Maybe," she responds, clearly wanting to avoid any sort of argument and just blindly agreeing to something she has no intention of doing.

Surprisingly, the pistol station is pretty busy when we reach it, and Peeka freezes in place as soon as she sees the people occupying the station, her face going pale.

"Hey," I say gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She immediately lurches back at the touch, ghastliness being replaced by panic for just a moment before it slips back behind that mask of hers, a smile taking its place as she places a hand on her heart. "My goodness, I'm sorry, I got startled."

"Nothing to be sorry about, that was my bad," I laugh, finding it half-amusing how often this girl will apologize. "So, you still good to go?"

"I don't know," she bites her lip.

"There's nothing to worry about, that Career girl is just focused on her own training, so is the man, and I don't think his daughter is exactly the intimidating type."

She seems to barely hear my words, absently nodding. "Okay," she says, taking a hesitant step behind me, letting me lead the way as she keeps her eyes glued to the Career. A gunshot fires in the training range and Peeka jolts, her eyes quickly going to the floor.

Taking in a deep breath, I shake my head and walk forward, being sure to let Peeka keep up with me as I head over to the opposite side of the range from the other three. The Career and guy from Six are both fully focused on the range, but the little girl is just sitting on the bench, yawning and looking thoroughly bored until she spots us two. Immediately her eyes light up and she waves to us, a bright smile on her face.

Returning the smile, I wave back, before quickly turning my attention back to the range. I spent a few hours here last night, and have the hang of things now, being sure to quickly grab a few pairs of headphones, handing one to Peeka, who still is staring down at her shoes, and keeping the other for myself. "It gets real loud!" I shout over the sound of gunfire all the way on the other end."

"Yeah!" She shouts over, giggling to herself as she puts the headphones on, finally lifting her gaze up from her feet as she smiles at me.

Smiling to myself, I pick up one of the guns- which according to the trainer have been replaced with rubber ballistics which won't kill, but in his words "sting like a bitch."

"The concept being these are real easy!" I shout to Peeka, holding up the gun. "Just turn the safety off, aim, and fire!" Completing those first two steps myself, and I take in a deep breath, concentrating on the center target, and squeeze down on the trigger. The sound it lets off is painful, even through the earbuds, and Peeka lets out a squeal as she leaps back, and I turn around to see her catching her breath, a wide smile in place as she begins to giggle to herself.

"That was loud," she laughs.

"Really? I didn't notice!" I call back to her, causing both of us to break out into another round of laughter. "You want to give it a try?"

The moment I ask that question her expression drops, and she quickly shakes her head, looking down to the ground and murmuring something that I assume has to do with being ladylike and her "lovely fiance Deke!" I'm not gonna pretend I know everything going on in her life, but there's something off about her relationship that just gives me a cold feeling.

"How are you gonna defend yourself then?" I ask, firing off another bullet that misses the target by a decent margin. "Like I said earlier, most of the people in this room don't exactly seem the friendly type."

She remains quiet at that, continuing to look down at her feet.

"It's better than any of the alternatives," I continue, half-knowing that I won't be convincing her of anything. "Swords, bows, spears- those are all messy and painful, a gunshot is just a pull of the trigger, and that's it. No pain, no mess, no nothing."

"I can't," is all she says in a response, and she says it in such a quiet voice that I'm surprised I can even hear it through these headphones. She looks sickeningly guilty to be telling me no, eyes downcast and downtrodden as her face pales of all color.

Firing off another few shots in rapid fire at the target, I set the gun down on the table and slip off my headphones to let them dangle by my neck, glancing over to the side as I let out a sigh. "Well then, if you're not gonna protect yourself, you're gonna need somebody to watch your back in there, won't you?"

Her eyes light up at this, her smile still nowhere to be seen, but a wave of hope visibly washing over her. "Are you sure?" She asks timidly.

"Wouldn't of asked if I wasn't," I respond nonchalantly. "Besides, building shelters was _rough_ , I could use somebody with some survival skills in there to watch my back."

She nods her head, her voice speeding up in a nervous excitement. "I learned how to start a fire pretty well this morning, I could teach you tomorrow if you'd like."

I take my headphones and set them down on the nearby table, extending my hand out to her. "So what do you say then, I watch your back and you watch mine?"

That smile finally slips back onto her lips as she sets her headphones on the table, and takes my hand in hers. "Deal."

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed our first look at the Gravity alliance! Writing these two was an absolute blast, and I have a lot more planned for this pair in the future that I'm excited about! Next chapter will be the final training chapter, where we'll see our final 3 tributes with the loners and the Masks alliance. Prestige, Cyril, and Blaze are left, can you guess who's in what?**

 **Trivia (1 point): Thoughts on the Gravity alliance? Are you surprised at all?**

 **Alliances:**

 **Misery Business:** Horatio, McKenna, Merrium, Unity

 **Shattered:** Levi, Sigma

 **Ghosts:** Clyde, Rain

 **Gravity:** Ephraim, Peeka


	18. Day 3: Loners and Masks

"Loners and Masks"

* * *

 **A/N: And the last day of training is done! We're getting near the end of pre-Games stuff and I'm getting hyped! But until then, we still got 3 more tributes this chapter as we look at Prestige, Blaze, and Cyril. Enjoy!**

 **Warning: Vulgar language, particularly in Prestige's POV**

* * *

 _~Ain't it fun_

 _Living in the real world_

 _Ain't it good_

 _Being all alone~_

* * *

 **Prestige Freeman, 15, District One**

 **Early Morning, Tuesday, May 29th**

 **Floor Zero, Training Center**

A cloud of dust puffs up as my fist connects with the dummy bag, the chain creaking as it rocks back and forth in between each hit, my knuckles cracked and on the verge of bleeding. Each hit sends another wave of pain, my hands feeling limp and broken, but I set the pain aside, using the adrenaline that the pain gives me to keep me going, each hit swelling my rage up even further. This keeps on going until the pain in my hands begins to become too much, and with one last pained strike I lean back and kick the dummy, not even attempting to mute the scream that comes with it as the dummy goes flinging back, just about snapping off of the chain that it's held to.

I catch the dummy as it comes back, splashing a bit of water onto my head, only allowing myself to drink just a sip from the bottle before tossing it back to the side, and refocusing on the dummy. My knuckles are caked red by now from three hours of this relentless assault, trying to release my anger but instead just building it up even more, filling my body with an adrenaline junky high fueled by rage and pain.

The rest of the room is still nearly empty, the only other person in the entire room being the main source of all the anger welling up in me. Hailey finally wasn't the first one down here this morning, beating me down here when I showed up the first morning at 6:00, and then again when I showed up at 5:00 yesterday. Showing up at 4:00 was finally enough to beat her by a solid half hour though, and the look of surprise and defeat when she saw that I was already here was enough to make up for the lost hours of sleep. Plus, getting up that early means I get to avoid breakfast with Galavant, which is enough reason on its own.

My fist knocks into the dummy, blisters on my knuckles as I push through the pain, keeping an eye on the girl as she practices her shooting at the rifle station. She seems to be fully aware that I'm watching her, but she continues to stare down her target, even as her cheeks flush so bright red that it's visible from over here. The chain creaks as my next hit pounds into the dummy forcefully, sending it swinging back.

A part of me just wishes she would just be an asshole about this whole thing. For all the other districts, everything is clear cut. Your district partner hates you, and that makes it pretty easy to hate them back. And while I certainly hate the fucking guts out of the girl who dragged me into this hellhole for no reason, things would be a lot simpler if she would stop acting like a shy, scared little kid every time she's around me.

Sucking in a deep breath, I turn my gaze back to the dummy in front of me, letting out a rapid flurry of hits, weaving in a few jabs with my feet before again finishing with a monstrous kick that I put all my power into, the chain swinging back wildly as the dummy kisses the ceiling. Giving one last half-hearted hit as it comes swinging back to me, I hop down from the small platform that the dummies are on, taking a long swig of water and eyeing the rest of the room, which is still empty aside from Hailey.

My asshole district partner also seems like she's done with her station, tossing down the rifle carelessly, but keeping the earphones with her, only letting them hang by her neck as she walks over in my direction, eyes glued to the floor, her face again going that stupid tomato color. I don't understand it, she picks a fight with the giant ass Career without any fear whatsoever, yet whenever she sees me she turns into the little girl from Five.

I shake off those thoughts, splashing my face with water and letting out a deep breath. All of this is messing with my head, and that's the last thing I need right now. I just need to stay focused on training for another few hours, show what I can do to the Gamemakers, get the interview and party out of the way, and then I'm in the Games. There's no time to waste my thoughts on a stupid ass girl who's gonna get her neck snapped by that D2 guy in the bloodbath. Just take things one step at a time, until this entire mess is over and things can. . . well, I'll worry about what I'm going to do next after I'm out of this. Again, just one step at a time.

The two of us take paths that keep us as far away from each other as possible, and I eye up the room quickly to decide what I'm going to do next. I've spent a ton of time at the hand-to-hand combat station, and for good measure I got a grasp of how to use a saber, but otherwise I've been focused on the athleticism stations. Speed, agility, ICM, even the gauntlet: all things that are right up in my wheelhouse and I'm perfectly comfortable with. But even though Melody told me that I'll have plenty of sponsors and won't need to worry too much about survival skills- I'm not fully convinced. What if the Gamemakers aren't impressed in my private session, or I bomb my interviews?

For the third time in just a few minutes I'm forced to completely empty my mind, forcing myself to focus on the present. I'll go learn some survival skills just to be safe, and we'll see how things go and take it from there. Just as I resolve myself to that and begin heading over to the trap making station, another tribute steps out of the elevator, the older boy from Three. He seems taken aback that other people are here, especially the one that's standing just a few feet away from him.

"You know training doesn't start for another hour. . . right?" He asks in a snarky sort of voice that rubs me the wrong way.

"We're fighting in a deathmatch in a few days, I could use the extra hours in," I reply, mimicking his voice.

He doesn't seem very offended though, just laughing. "You're the girl from One, right? Owltige or whatever?"

"Prestige," I say, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "And you're. . . Liam, right?"

"Haha, very funny," he says in a voice that's about as far from laughing as I can imagine. "Malcolm."

"You're the one that's been geeking out at the physics station, right?" I ask, turning away from him and walking to the trap-making station, only half surprised to see him following after me.

"Yeah, and you're the one who's been screaming into that dummy for the past two days?" He responds in kind as he hustles to catch up.

"Kicking dummy's asses is my favorite thing to do," sending him a jokingly threatening glare.

"Good to know, but I thought your whole shtick was being some soccer prodigy or whatever."

"I'm a girl of many talents. . . what about you, you any good at anything?"

He snorts at that, shaking his head. "I'm good at weirding people out if that's any sort of prize."

"How do you do that?" I ask as the two of us sit get to the station, Malcolm grabbing one of the manuals while I gather up materials.

He pauses for a moment at that, his face suddenly switching features, a mask lifted for a moment as he stares down at his feet. "I'm different, a freak I guess."

"Well so am I, so your in good company," I tell him.

"Yeah, but your a cool type of freak, mine is just. . . ."

"I mean, I'm not gonna pretend to say it isn't useless or whatever since I have no idea what it is, so if you want me to give you a pep talk or some shit your gonna have to show me."

That manages to earn a smile out of him, and he takes in a deep breath, muttering something under his breath. "Alright," he finally says, looking up at me with a suddenly calculating look in his eyes. "Give me two three digit numbers."

Resisting the urge to crack another joke at his expense, I tell him, "Five-hundred sixty-seven and three-hundred eighty-two."

He blinks, and without even a moments thought he quickly blurts out, "two-hundred sixteen thousand five-hundred ninety-four is what you get if you multiply those numbers, the square root of that is four-hundred sixty-five point three nine six six, square root that again and you get twenty-one point five seven, the factorial of which is roughly two point nine six times ten to the twentieth."

"Okay, I don't understand a word you just said but it sounded cool," I tell him, only half-jokingly.

"It isn't cool, it's weird," he says, flipping open the manual.

"So is being a fifteen-year-old girl that can kick harder than most Peacekeepers can. I'd rather be a unique freak than a talentless nobody."

He seems to think on that for a moment, nodding his head after a long moment and turning to me. "Alright, you wanna figure out if we can put our freakish powers together to learn how to build a trap then?"

I smile over at the kid next to me and give him a nod. "Sounds like a plan."

 **Blaze Colton, 21, District Twelve**

 **Morning,** **Tuesday, May 29th**

 **Floor Zero, Training Center**

I lash out wildly with the sword, steel clashing against steel as the trainer throws up a sword of his own, falling back slightly from the force of the blow. Swinging at him again, he takes another step back, this time meeting my sword evenly and pushing back on me, slightly throwing me off balance as he takes a step back and regains his composure.

Letting in a ragged breath, I charge at him and swing viciously at his neck, the man just barely dodging under the attack and poking out the sword at my stomach. I take a mad swing at his sword, attempting to knock it out of his hands, but he just pulls back, the momentum of my swing sending me tumbling to the side, the trainer slashing at my back for good measure as I step by him, the dull edge running against my skin and causing rage to swell up in me.

I stare him down for a moment as we both stand at opposing ends of the small ring, before I take in a deep breath, stepping forward and putting all my strength into a swing at his chest, this time managing to get the advantage as he stumbles back slightly. Raising the sword over my head I bring it crashing down again, the trainer this time deftly dodging out of the way. As he does I swing my sword in his direction, cursing as he easily blocks the attempt, and with a flick of the wrist disarms me of my sword, my hand slipping out of the handle as it flies away.

"You have some strength and anger behind you- that's good, but you need to-" I tune out the trainer before he can say anything more, turning and walking away from the Capitolite without even bothering to grab my sword. Last thing I need is advice from a Capitolite, and I'm done with this station either way. As much as the trainers may try to convince themselves otherwise, swords are useless against a good punch. I don't need any help from some snobby Capitolite who's never been in a fight in his life before. You can train all you want about how to duel with blades, but that doesn't mean anything when a guy is wailing on you with his fists, trying to kill you.

Glancing over the rest of the room, there's not many tributes in here I would say have ever been in an actual fight before. Right next to me there's my jackass district partner with the timid girl from Ten, Ephraim joking around with the girl as he shoots off arrows at the target, missing by a mile. No way either of them have any fighting instinct in them.

Next to them is the hand-to-hand station, which the angry girl from One has just left empty, instead moving on to the fire starting station, where she looks to be trying hard not to laugh at the commentary the boy from Five is giving to his district partner. The other girl from One is with the scrawny kid from Three at the trap making station, where they've set up an absurdly complicated looking trap. Either way though, that's another five tributes I can guarantee have never been in an actual brawl before.

There's the other Three kid who's been at the physics station the entire three days of training, the buddy-buddy girls from Nine and Seven that have done nothing but sit at the shelter station and chat, and nearly every one of the other tributes who all have spent their training in about as useful of ways. I'll pass on wasting my time playing with sticks and fires, and focus on the thing that'll actually get me out of this mess: fighting.

In the entire room, the only ones that are even a little bit threatening are the other Careers and the two criminals, and even out of all of them, one of the girls from Four still hasn't showed up to training yet today, the man from Six is babysitting his daughter, and the girl from Two is about as far from intimidating as possible. So that leaves a grand total of three other tributes who are any sort of threat, not exactly the worst odds in the world. Especially when none of them want to win as much as I do- when none of them have so much waiting for them back home.

I ignore the trainer's greeting when I get to the hand-to-hand combat station, instead clipping up a punching bag and focusing all my effort on that, ignoring the solemn nod that the man from Eight gives me. That's just another thing that I have going for me in here, I'm not wasting my time trying to make friends because I'm scared I might get lonely in the arena. The Games is a deathmatch with only one survivor, and anybody trying to convince them that they can trust another person in that arena is just deluding themselves.

I'm not a bad guy, not like some of the psychopaths in here are- sure I get in fights, I'll stand up for who I love, but I never pick them for no reason. But in the Games, I won't hesitate to do what I have to in order to get out. I'm sure that a lot of the people in here are good kids, and nobody deserves to be forced into this shitty place- but the Capitol is full of sadistic pricks and so we're all here whether we like it or not, and as long as I'm stuck in this mess I won't hesitate to kill anybody in here.

"What's up?" The boy asks me as he takes a swig of water, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead as he nods at me.

Again I don't reply, continuing to throw punches into the bag that send it rocking back, the man seemingly unfazed by my lack of response, just finishing his drink and continuing his own training. That earns a little bit of respect in my eyes at least, glad to be able to focus on my training without distraction. Out of every single person in this room the only one who hasn't tried to strike up some sort of conversation when they were with me is the soccer girl from One- even the Careers all tried their hardest to be intimidating. It's nice when someone is able to just keep to themselves around here.

After all, I don't have any time to make friends in here. I have a promise to keep.

 **Cyril Lovelace, 11, District Three**

 **Afternoon,** **Tuesday, May 29th**

 **Floor Zero, Training Center**

I shouldn't have spent so much time at the physics station. In the moment I was just scared, looking around the room at all these Careers easily handling terrifying weapons, and I just wanted to go to the thing that I actually understood just a little bit. It felt comfortable there, the trainer was really nice and it was the one place. . . well, I guess it was the only place I really felt safe in this entire place. But I won't be feeling so safe in the arena when I don't know even know how to survive.

This realization hit me hard at lunch today, and the moment it did I dropped the rest of my meal and ran straight to the fire starting station. I actually feel like I did okay there, I learned how to make a fire with a lighter- so if I can just get one of those in the arena I won't freeze to death at least, but right now this trap making station has me stuck.

Even then, if by some miracle I learn to make a trap that could catch animals in just the next half hour, what about everything else? I don't know how to skin and cook an animal, I don't know how to find water- or even make sure that its clean for that matter, and I can't tell a poisonous plant or berry from one that I could eat. Worst of all- I have no idea how to fight. Even Sigma could probably beat me in a fight, that's how helpless I am. I don't even want to think about what one of those Careers could do to me.

Just the idea itself sends a shiver down my body, and I suck in a deep breath, forcing myself to focus back on my trap. It's just an easy snare to catch a small animal like a rabbit, the trainer said it's the most useful thing you can learn in here in so little time. Super easy, and could end up saving your life, I just need to focus.

But no matter how much I try to hone in on the task in front of me, my mind keeps on wandering, thinking about all the things I should have done differently up until now. I should have picked Liam instead of Malcolm, I should have been braver when I got picked so Dalton didn't think I was a lost cause, I should have gotten Dalton to give me advice on how to win instead of just hiding in my room, I should have learned all of the survival skills here, and I should have found allies. Every single step of the way I've done everything wrong, and now in just half an hour training will be over, so there's no time to fix everything.

There is time to fix at least one of those things though, and while I try my hardest to focus on this station, I already know that this won't be the thing I get done today. My hands are shaking in fear already, my focus is blurry. . . I just can't do this, not now. Looking just across the floor from me though, to the station the head trainer is in charge of, and the place where _she's_ been spending most of her time with her district partner.

I tried to come up and talk with her both of the first two days, but. . . I guess I was just too scared. What if they didn't want me to join them? Why would they want me with them, it's not like I can exactly help them at all. . . .

I shake those thoughts out of my head, shaky hands forcefully placing down the rest of the materials in my hands I stand up and begin walking over to the station, my heart racing as I force myself to step forward, try to empty all my thoughts and just focus on walking over there, and think about what to say afterwards. The boy, her district partner, he seemed really nice, I'm sure that he wouldn't say anything mean, maybe they really will want me in their alliance, and if they say no. . . at least I won't regret not asking.

Now that I'm closer, I can see that they're not alone at the station, and that's nearly enough to stop me, but I keep on walking. But when I see Sigma's district partner turn towards the Career girl and whisper something in her ear, causing them both to laugh, that's enough to cause me to freeze. A part of me is still trying to will myself forward, but my legs are glued in place, refusing to take another step towards them. That girl is a Career, the same one that got into a fight with another tribute already, and now she's with Sigma and her friend. . . .

There's no way that they would want me now. Maybe if I would have gone to them earlier, we could have been allies, and I could have someone with me in the arena, but I messed up, and it's way too late now. What was I thinking anyways? There's not even thirty minutes left in training, nobody would trust me enough to want to be my ally anymore. I messed up, I was stupid and screwed everything up and it's too late to fix it now.

Before I'm caught by any of them standing in the middle of the room staring at them I quickly turn around and head back to the station I just came from, ignoring the way my cheeks flush red as I shake off the feeling that the entire room is looking at me. The large electronic clocks mounted on the walls all read 1:45, meaning that in just fifteen minutes we'll be called in to wait for our private sessions.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turn my attention back to my snare again, shaky hands attempting to assemble the trap. I'm all alone now. . . for better or for worse.

* * *

 **A/N: I promise the Owltige was already in there before brought it up to me Celtic lol (like legit wrote the POV then a few minutes later you mentioned it, so that was some spooky Prophetic Duck voodoo again). But moving on from that reference that like 3 people on this site will understand, I hope y'all enjoyed the last training chapter! Next chapter we're gonna be moving on to the Private Sessions, which will be a short POV from our Head Gamemaker, then a Gamemaker report similar to what Celtic and Tracey have done.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite POV out of these 3?**

 **Trivia(1 point): What alliance do you most want to see interact more before the Games?**

 **Alliances:**

 **Misery Business:** Horatio, McKenna, Merrium, Unity

 **Shattered:** Levi, Sigma

 **Ghosts:** Clyde, Rain

 **Gravity:** Ephraim, Peeka

 **Masks:** Prestige, Malcolm

 **Stuck:** Clara, Rachel


	19. Private Sessions Report: Never Enough

"Never Enough"

* * *

 **A/N: Private session report! If you can't/don't want to read the entire thing that's cool, I'd suggest at least reading over the observations for all the tributes though.**

 **Warning: Mature themes very briefly and un-descriptively mentioned in D8 and D11 reports.**

* * *

 _~All the shine of a thousand spotlights_

 _All the stars we steal from the nightsky_

 _Will never be enough_

 _Never be enough~_

* * *

 _Note: The following is an official copy of the Private Session report for the one-hundred-first annual Hunger Games. Inside contains reports of the twenty-four tributes, including the skills they demonstrated during their session, their assumed strategy, any exceptionalities, their current odds, potential talking points for interviewer [REDACTED], as well as general observations from Head Gamemaker Tali Choice._

 _Note: Raw input score (RIS) is a score out of 5 that is based purely on the average performance of their top 3 skills they were assessed on during their private session. The training score is then calculated based on RIS, the usefulness of the abilities they displayed, as well as other factors that were observed during the 3 days of training._

* * *

 _PRESTIGE FREEMAN, 15, DISTRICT ONE_

 _PRIVATE SESSION REPORT: Prestige wasted no time with introductions, immediately showcasing her ability at the agility station, in which she successfully completed the course on advance difficulty with a perfect score. She proceeded to run the 40-yard dash at the speed station, where she broke the current Hunger Games record with an astonishing 4.20 time. She then ran the gauntlet on advanced difficulty, not setting another record but coming quite close with an impressive 30.48 time. With her remaining time she showcased impressive talent at the in-combat-maneuverability station, though she did not possess the same exceptional level as her previous abilities._

 _STRATEGY: Prestige spent most of training seeming to be content going solo, though last minute has appeared to ally up with Malcolm Hall, though whether they stick together in the arena or not is unknown. Prestige has so far embraced her fame, and is garnering massive popularity due to it._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Prestige has athletic abilities transcending prodigal status, with her most recent 40-yard dash being the third fastest time ever recorded by a woman in Panem, despite her young age. She has been offered a starting spot on a Capitol soccer team and prior to the reapings was set to become the first district citizen to gain permanent Capitol citizenship._

 _ODDS: 1:6_

 _RIS: 4.75_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Prestige is already a celebrity, so feed off of that. Get across that she isn't just some soccer player, sell the crowd on the fact that this is a once in a generation talent. Prestige is fairly quiet, but is extremely focused and passionate about soccer, steer clear of the Games and focus on soccer and she'll shine. If you want to get some drama out of her- bring up Hailey, there's clearly more there than it seems on the surface._

 _OBSERVATIONS: With the Games over a century old, it's rare to have a tribute who is truly special, but Prestige is exactly that. Her popularity is nearly as spectacular as her talents, and she has shown that she is determined as any other tribute here. As long as she doesn't get distracted by any lingering drama with her district partner, she'll be a safe bet for victor._

 _HAILEY HILLS, 13, DISTRICT ONE_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: After informing the Gamemaker who wished her good luck to "fuck off" she preceded to the hand-to-hand combat station, where she requested the highest level trainer available. Despite her massive size disadvantage, she held her own against the trainer with some creative fighting, though the fight had to end before a winner could be determined due to time restraints. Visibly angry, she then showcased admirable abilities with a rifle against moving targets, taking 10 shots and hitting the target 4 times, 3 of which were lethal. Finally, she showed exceptional talent with the bow against moving targets, firing 10 arrows and hitting the target every time, 9 of those shots being lethal. Neither of these performances seemed to please her either, however, and she stormed off without dismissal, flipping off the Gamemakers when one of us reminded her of her lack of dismissal._

 _STRATEGY: Hailey briefly was with the Career alliance, before leaving in a quite un-amicable fashion. Like Prestige, she appeared to be going solo, though spent quite a bit time on the last day of training with Levi Ezra and Sigma Krell, opening the door for a possible alliance._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Hailey has trained at a Career academy since a young age on a full scholarship, and competes in the age level two years above her._

 _ODDS: 1:9_

 _RIS: 4.3_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Hailey is a firecracker. She's likely to be extremely uncooperative during her interview unless Galavant manages to talk some sense into her. Get behind her and don't underestimate her, let her show just how determined she really is, and don't ask about why she picked Prestige until the end of the interview- there's a good chance she'll not be very talkative after that._

 _OBSERVATIONS: If determination were quantifiable, Hailey would be setting as many records as her district partner. She wants to win more than anyone else does, and if she can put whatever happened with Prestige in the past, and avoid Horatio in the arena, she'll be a dark horse contender for victor. It's a shame she was reaped so young, she could have surpassed even Galavant's talents had she gotten a few more years to train._

 _HORATIO REX, 21, DISTRICT TWO_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Greeted the Gamemakers warmly before brutalizing the most advanced trainer in hand-to-hand combat, making quick work of the most advanced sword trainers as well in an unexpected request to fight 1 versus 3, still not seeming to receive any sort of challenge. Finally, he demolished the previous bench press record, doing 48 reps with a 225 pound weight._

 _STRATEGY: Horatio has squabbled over control of the Career alliance with McKenna Bay, losing confidence in his leadership abilities after his injury to Hailey Hills. He seems to be following the typical model of Career victory, winning by sheer force, something he has bounds of._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Has been accused of numerous crimes, though none of the accusations have come to fruition. Lost his chance to volunteer due to a concussion at 18, but has continued training despite his injury, reportedly being the highest rated Career to ever come out a District Two academy._

 _ODDS: 1:7_

 _RIS: 5_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Horatio is smarter than he looks. Try to get him to show off some of his intellect, and let the crowds know that this is a tribute the likes of which we haven't seen before._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Whereas Prestige is the fastest tribute we've ever seen, Horatio is easily the strongest. While he isn't a dumb brute, his strength is what he's going to have to abuse in order to win. In a fair fight there's no single (or even two) tributes who could take him down. As long as he doesn't get cocky or unlucky, nobody is going to stand between him and victory._

 _UNITY CREED, 16, DISTRICT TWO_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Unity displayed decent skills in combat with knives, holding her own against the beginner trainer, and passable shooting abilities with the pistols, firing 10 shots and hitting the target only twice, once in the outer ring and once in the inner ring. She then left her session with two minutes still remaining._

 _STRATEGY: Unity seems to be going along for the ride with the Careers, half out of comfort and half out of fear of walking away from her district partner. She doesn't seem to be taking this very seriously, and unless she is hiding something appears to have no plans of how she will be the last Career standing, much less the last tribute._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Has never trained at an academy._

 _ODDS: 1:49_

 _RIS: 1_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: She's a typical teenage girl who's wormed her way into the Career alliance, try to get her to show that there's more to her than it appears on the surface._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Surrounded by exceptional tributes, Unity is a normal girl. She has no unique talents or attributes, and has done nothing interesting of note. For her own sake, she better have something else that she's hiding._

 _MALCOLM HALL, 13, DISTRICT THREE_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Malcolm started off at the edible plants station, scoring 100% on advanced with little effort, then did the same with berries and nuts as well. He ended his private session by going to the physics station, where he displayed university-level knowledge of both applied and theoretical physics. Malcolm hardly broke a sweat the entire time, seeming like he hardly had to even put in effort._

 _STRATEGY: Malcolm has been memorizing talents for all the survival stations during training, and has recently looked to possible ally with Prestige, who would compliment his intelligence with athleticism quite nicely._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Malcolm is a certified genius. By raw IQ he is already the most intelligent tribute we've ever seen in the Games._

 _ODDS: 1:19_

 _RIS: 5_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Malcolm seems insecure about his intelligence, so try to ease him into being more comfortable showing off just how intelligent he really is. Don't treat him as a freak and he'll be more willing to show just how remarkable he really is._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Malcolm's selection is an unfortunate waste of a gift. Outside of his intelligence he has nothing that's at all exceptional. He's lucky enough to be placed into a year where his gifts could possible serve him decently well, though he'll still be facing an uphill battle if he wants to come out alive. It's a shame, his mind is capable of remarkable things._

 _CYRIL LOVELACE, 11, DISTRICT THREE_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Cyril was extremely nervous coming into his private session, and quickly made his way to the physics station, where he displayed admirable talents for a boy so young, though judging by his extensive time spent there his skill makes sense. He then showed an equally surprising amount of skill at the navigation station, being able to consistently judge directions from constellations, though showing no further skill that showed true mastery of the subject. With a small amount of time remaining he attempted the stealth station (a station he had not visited in training), and while he started adequately, quickly began making mistakes, causing him to panic and cause even more mistakes which eventually lead to Cyril leaving the session in tears._

 _STRATEGY: Cyril has not seemed to have much of any strategy. He spent nearly all his time at the physics station, and did not make any allies during training. He has spent quite a lot of time observing the pair from Five, particularly Sigma Krell, and there is still potential that he will eventually team up with that group._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Cyril is the younger sibling of Alt Lovelace (D3 tribute for the 100th Hunger Games), and can be assumed to live. in a neglectful environment. Cyril has ADD that his family refuses to medicate, and our psychiatrists have reported severe psychological damage._

 _ODDS: 1:39_

 _RIS: 2_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Cyril is a nervous child, try to bring him out of his shell a bit. Many are comparing him to his sister Alt, but he is a completely different person, and let that become clear with his interview._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Cyril is not the tribute we expected when a Lovelace name was called. He faces severe trauma from a troubled home life, and seems to lack any sort of direction. He's the only tribute of the 24 who has no sort of support system at all, and unless he can change that before the Games start he is looking unlikely to emerge the arena outside of a body bag._

 _MCKENNA BAY, 17, DISTRICT FOUR_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: McKenna, or Kenzie as she seemed insistent upon being called, started off her sessions on a high point demonstrating her abilities with a bow. She fired on a moving target 10 times, hitting the target 8 times with 3 of those hits being lethal. She then showed a respectable amount of talent with in-combat-maneuverability, and finished off by surprisingly going to the navigational station. She showed a mastery level, the navigation seeming to be second nature to her._

 _STRATEGY: McKenna is attempting to fight for control of the pack with Horatio. She is the most socially intelligent of this year's tributes, showing exceptional leadership qualities. However, she picked a bad year to come to the Games, with a small, fractured pack. Although they seem to be polar opposites, her and Merrium Solera seem to have a stronger bond with each other than they do with the D2 pair, and could possibly end up staging a mutiny against Horatio._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: McKenna is granddaughter of the current D4 mayor and a player in the political circles of the district, seemingly being groomed to become the next mayor. She's also been a trainer at the academy for quite some time and is a straight-A student at school._

 _ODDS: 1:7_

 _RIS: 4_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: McKenna is a smart cookie, and knows how to present herself. She knows how to speak to people, so sit back and let her take control of the interview._

 _OBSERVATIONS: In an average year with a standard Career pack McKenna would be the heavy favorite, however she had the misfortune of having her allies be difficult to work with, and not having many of them. Still though, McKenna is an intelligent woman who, if she can let go of trying to to control the pack and adapt to her situation, could easily steal the crown._

 _MERRIUM SOLERA, 19, DISTRICT FOUR_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Merrium went about her session with little hustle, attempting on numerous times to show off her looks to the Gamemakers (with a sadly high success rate I must disappointingly add). Merrium went to standard Career stations, showing off her skills with spears and the bow. With spears she demonstrated respectable throwing abilities, but exemplary sparring skills, going toe to toe with our top trainer and eventually besting him. With the bow she also showed very good abilities, firing 10 shots at a moving target and striking the target 8 times, 3 of which were lethal (the same accuracy as McKenna Bay, interestingly enough)._

 _STRATEGY: Merrium is playing the flirty angle, and while her plan has faltered at points, she seems to have all 3 other Careers firmly on her side, with all 3 of them looking at her as their closest ally in the alliance. Whose side she's really on, if she even is on one, remains to be seen._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Merrium has trained at the academy for quite some time, and is currently engaged to a wealthy playboy._

 _ODDS: 1:8_

 _RIS: 3.5_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Merrium is one of the most popular tributes, and it isn't because of her personality. Let her strut her stuff and avoid bringing up her fiance._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Merrium is the wildcard of the Career pack. If she's playing this as intelligently as we're giving her credit for, she could easily manipulate her way into winning these Games, though in such a volatile Career pack, if she wants to win she'll need to have some sort of backup plan. While her combat skills are admirable, she shines in a group setting, she's the glue holding together the Career pack and will need to continue to be just that if she wants to emerge victorious._

 _LEVI EZRA, 17, DISTRICT FIVE_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: [REDACTED]_

 _STRATEGY: Levi is playing babysitter. He's looking after Sigma before anything else, and has zero intentions of winning the Games. If his alliance with Hailey ends up happening, their alliance could pack more of a punch than anyone else is expecting them to._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Levi has an extremely uncommon disease rumored to be [REDACTED] that has been recently aptly named "Ezra disorder." He is quite fortunate to even still be alive, and could drop dead from a brain aneurysm at any given moment._

 _ODDS: 1:99_

 _RIS: 0_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Levi is unafraid if nothing else. He's a happy-go-lucky guy that will shine under the spotlight, joke around with him and the entire crowd will be laughing, ask about his family and friends back home and you'll leave the audience in tears. There's very little you can do wrong with this one._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Levi knows he can't win, but if he wants Sigma to survive then he's going to need to be willing to stand up and fight, or at the very least find somebody who will do it for him. Levi is a genuinely good kid, if there's anybody here that deserves a happy ending it's him._

 _SIGMA KRELL, 9, DISTRICT FIVE_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: [REDACTED]_

 _STRATEGY: Sigma seems to trust Levi and Levi only, sticking to him like glue during training. She's a completely different person when around him, going from mute to a bubbly little girl. While she doesn't show that same trust to Hailey, she does seem to be more open towards her than anybody else._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Sigma suffers from a severe case of PTSD and is nearly mute. Her father has multiple domestic abuse charges against him that have been dropped, Sigma regularly comes to school with unexplained bruises, hasn't spoken a single word in school in years, and her brother committed suicide recently. She has a plethora of mental health problems that have no easy fix, with permanent, irreversible damage to her psyche likely._

 _ODDS: 1:99_

 _RIS: 0_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Sigma is going to be a tough nut to crack, but going directly after Levi should help things on her end. Levi is going to be the key to get her to open up if there's any hope of her speaking. Ask simple questions that can be answered with a nod or shake of the head, and steer clear of anything not related to her allies, mentor, or escort. Good luck._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Sigma is the underdog to end all underdogs. The psychological damage she's suffered is well beyond what someone her age can handle, and even if she does miraculously win the Games, those issues will only be exacerbated. To be frank, regardless of whether she wins or not I see little chance she survives to her teenage years. Sometimes the most merciful outcome isn't victory._

 _CLYDE KANIFF, 22, DISTRICT SIX_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Clyde did not so much as acknowledge the Gamemakers presence once during his session, immediately going to work fighting the second highest level trainer at the hand-to-hand station and holding his own for the entire contest, ending in a draw. He then had a good showing with the rifles, firing 10 shots at a stationary target and hitting it 9 times, hitting the bullseye once, inner ring 4 times, and outer ring 4 times. Finally, he went to the gauntlets station, showing the same level of skill he did with hand-to-hand despite the added weights._

 _STRATEGY: Clyde does not want to win. He is fully committed to getting Rain out of the arena, and is clearly willing to do anything in order to make sure that happens. He has ignored all other tributes, and forced Rain to do the same._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: In a schizophrenic break, Clyde killed his wife and [REDACTED] leading to him receiving a prison sentence. However, he was patient zero for a new experimental drug that appears to have miraculously cured him of his schizophrenia, though some of the psychiatric team have suggested the trauma of the Games could trigger another break._

 _ODDS: 1:39_

 _RIS: 3.3_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: The details of his break are gritty, stay away from them. Ignore the past and focus on the now, with particular attention to being reunited with his daughter. He has anger issues, but if you focus on Rain all of that will melt away and the audience will get to see another side to him._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Clyde is an intriguing tribute. His future is extremely muddled, and there's no telling what will happen with him in the arena. His daughter is all he cares about, and if he loses her he could lose his will to live- or snap completely. He's done a good job not getting mixed up in any drama yet, and if he can continue to avoid conflict, he could manage to get his daughter out of this after all._

 _RAIN KANIFF, 8, DISTRICT SIX_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Rain came in with boundless enthusiasm and a cheery disposition that never faltered throughout her time. She spent half of her time attempting to start a fire, where she was able to just barely get a fire going with a lighter. She then constructed a passable shelter out of branches and leaves in the remainder of her time._

 _STRATEGY: Rain is following her dad the entire way. If she were to lose her father in the Games, she would most likely not fare well, though she has already proven that she can survive on her own._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: After her psychiatrist visit, Rain was determined to have recollection of part of the night of her father's break, but the trauma of [REDACTED] has apparently caused a mental block in her mind that she is unaware of. Rain has experienced extreme trauma in her life, yet has shown extreme resilience. If she has internal issues she hides them very well._

 _ODDS: 1:39_

 _RIS: 0.5_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Rain is a bubbly kid, and can stay cheery through even the darkest topics. Don't be too scared to bring up Amara (or Ryan for that matter), but steer clear of her dad's psychotic break, keep things fun and light and Rain will continue to be one of the fan favorites._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Rain is a fighter. She may be young, but she has one of the top competitors defending her with his life, and while she'll be helpless in combat, she's already proven that she's a survivor unlikely to give up hope. While unlikely, Rain might just manage to defy the odds and do what Amara couldn't._

 _RACHEL DRAKE, 16, DISTRICT SEVEN_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Rachel showed passable skills with a pistol, but truly shown with her shelter making abilities, taking the vast majority of her time to construct an impressive shelter._

 _STRATEGY: Rachel has allied up with Clara, and the two seem to be close friends already._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: None_

 _ODDS: 1:46_

 _RIS: 1.5_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Focus on her friendship with Clara._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Her and Clara are quite the pair, and if they're able to stick together could make it far into the Games. One has to wonder if their time could have been better spent than constructing shelters though._

 _BAILEY RILEY, 16, DISTRICT SEVEN_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Bailey showed passable talent with a bow, and did decently with edible plants and fire starting._

 _STRATEGY: Bailey is going into the Games solo._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: None._

 _ODDS: 1:49_

 _RIS: 2_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: There isn't much to her, make her the villain to the Clara and Rachel alliance and you might build up some hype for that battle._

 _OBSERVATIONS: There will always be tributes that fall into the background, and every once in a while- one of these win. It's an even playing field for those first 60 seconds, and anybody can emerge victorious if they play their cards right._

 _NICHOLAS IONAS, 21, DISTRICT EIGHT_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Nicholas displayed good talent with hand-to-hand combat as well as with knives, and had passable scores on the edible plant test._

 _STRATEGY: Nicholas has tried striking up conversation with some of the other adults, but unfortunately for him Blaze and Clyde aren't the most open to allies, and so he is going into the Games solo._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Has been accused by Lex of raping his sister six years ago, though the accusations are yet to be confirmed._

 _ODDS: 1:39_

 _RIS: 3_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: There's two paths here: paint him as the villain to Lex's story, or focus more on how he's turned his life around and is currently engaged with a steady paying job as a functional member of society. Your move._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Nicholas is a fairly motivated young man, and has the size to back of a decent amount of skill. However, he lacks that killer instinct, and does not seem to have that x-factor that lets you know a tribute is something special. Unless he does something shocking he'll quickly fall into the background in favor of more electric tributes._

 _LEX RENAULT, 14, DISTRICT EIGHT_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Lex demonstrated good hand-to-hand combat skills that were strengthened even further when he used gauntlets._

 _STRATEGY: Lex has stayed to himself, and seems focused on getting revenge against Nicholas above all._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: We have no records on this kid. He's completely off the grid._

 _ODDS: 1:37_

 _RIS: 3_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: He's gonna be hot-headed and try to attack Nicholas, what you want to do with that is up to you, just know that things won't be calm regardless of what you try to say to him._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Lex has potential, but he's too consumed by rage and revenge. If he wants to win he has to stop focusing his energy on vengeance and start focusing on surviving for his nephew who undoubtedly needs him back home._

 _CLARA ORWELL, 16, DISTRICT NINE_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Clara showcased decent skills with the pistol, quickly started a fire using only flint and steel, and constructed an exceptional shelter in short time._

 _STRATEGY: Clara has allied with Rachel, and the two seem to be playing the long game of survival rather than fighting other tributes_

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: None_

 _ODDS: 1:34_

 _RIS: 3.6_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Clara is a charming, well-spoken young woman who will impress the audience, even if she doesn't quite stand out among the competition. Try to make her memorable, because if people remember her- they'll be rooting for her._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Clara struggles to stand out. That can be both a good and bad thing, and Clara is clever enough to use it to her advantage. It will come to no surprise to me if she makes it far into the Games, though whether she has it in her to kill or not is a question that will need to be answered._

 _JUNO CHANCE, 17, DISTRICT NINE_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Juno showcased mediocre talent with fire starting, and was flat out bad with knives and the bow._

 _STRATEGY: Juno has stayed to himself and appears to only be half-trying in training._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: None_

 _ODDS: 1:57_

 _RIS: 1_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Juno is a wallflower, try to stir up drama about him and Clara and he might not stand out himself, but he can help Clara shine a bit brighter._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Juno needs to stop half-assing things. These are the Hunger Games, you put in 100% or you won't come out._

 _PICABOO BENNER, 19, DISTRICT TEN_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: 'Peeka' was an odd mixture of happy and nervous the entire time, trying to keep a smile on her face but clearly having to force it the whole way through. She started with the trap making station, where she failed completely in her attempt to construct a snare. While this clearly hurt her self-esteem, she continued on to the fire starting station, where she build a decent fire using only matches, and topped it off with another fairly impressive showing at the water station, being able to correctly identify and purify otherwise unhealthy drinking water._

 _STRATEGY: Peeka has joined forces with Ephraim, and the two have become close friends over the past two days, with Peeka beginning to have to force her smiles less and less while around him, and seemingly enjoying her time with the boy. The two are close friends, and are likely to stick together for quite some time in the arena._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Peeka is the daughter of the owners of one of the largest plantations in District Ten, and is engaged._

 _ODDS: 1:39_

 _RIS: 2_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Peeka is a southern belle through and through, have a bright and cheery interview, get her talking about her fiance and she'll go on for ages about how in love she is. Focus on her alliance with Ephraim, as the two are likely to be an unexpected alliance that will win over some interest._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Peeka is a fighter in an unexpected package, so unexpected perhaps- that even she doesn't realize it. She's a sweet kid, but she's going to need to shed the ladylike attitude if she wants to win. But if she can manage to (or if the Games forces her), then you'll have a capable, determined woman that might shock the nation and become District Ten's next victor._

 _CEDRIC STETSON, 18, DISTRICT TEN_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Cedric demonstrated good hand-to-hand skills as well as a decent performance with swords._

 _STRATEGY: Cedric is going into the games solo, and seems to be focusing his anger on Peeka._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Cedric's father died in the fields that Peeka's family owns due to being overworked to the point of exhaustion._

 _ODDS: 1:35_

 _RIS: 2_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Cedric is an angry young man, but he has a reason to be mad, try to paint him as sympathetic while also not vilifying Peeka. This will either be a redemption story or a Peeka v Cedric showdown, but if it's the latter than Peeka would be the one to be painted as the hero._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Cedric needs to calm down. While his anger is justified, his direction isn't, and he's going to get himself killed if he doesn't focus and stop blindly following his rage. Even if he does kill Peeka, he's going to need to go through a major change if he's going to survive._

 _FRAZIER BELFAST, 20, DISTRICT ELEVEN_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Frazier entered the room and displayed decent skill against the intermediate trainer (though the trainer failed to hold back to the appropriate level and ended up besting Frazier quite easily). He then showed barely passable talent with pistols._

 _STRATEGY: Frazier has been on an island, and he seems content there. He seems fully aware that he won't be surviving the Games, and has not shown up to training yet, instead just staying in his room and enjoying the best the Capitol has to offer._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Frazier is on deaths row for numerous charges of murder and rape._

 _ODDS: 1:99_

 _RIS: 1.5_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: You know what to do, don't get his side of the story, don't try to empathize with him. Don't hold back._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Frazier isn't going to win, and the fact he's even in the Games is an abomination._

 _BLUEBELL EVANS, 19, DISTRICT ELEVEN_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Bluebell attempted to start a fire but failed, did a passable job with identifying edible plants, and was mediocre at best with nuts and berries._

 _STRATEGY: Bluebell seems like she's a ghost, and clearly thinks she's already dead, which can be a self-fulfilling prophecy._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Her sister was raped and murdered by Frazier Belfast._

 _ODDS: 1:75_

 _RIS: 1_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Try to let her shine a little bit, it's probably going to be her last night alive- make it a good one for her._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Bluebell should be commended, she did something brave. Stupid, but brave._

 _EPHRAIM KRESS, 17, DISTRICT TWELVE_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Ephraim came in with a cocky smile and with the least amount of worry since the Careers, even if his first attempt with the pistols didn't inspire too much confidence. He did decently, firing 10 shots and hitting the stationary target 5 times, 4 of which were inner circle and 1 on the outer circle. He then showed off his hand-to-hand combat talents, where he went even with the intermediate trainer. Trap making was his final destination, and he did admirably there as well, constructing the bare bones of a functional snare in a short period of time._

 _STRATEGY: Ephraim is allied up with Peeka, and the two are clearly close._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Ephraim has a very minor concussion that he refuses to explain_

 _ODDS: 1:24_

 _RIS: 2.7_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Ephraim is a funny kid, so have some fun with him, chat about his alliance with Peeka, and keep it light. He's surrounded by some dark tributes, so a bright and cheery interview will help him stand out._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Ephraim is a kid with some potential. He's the prototypical outer-district victor, he's a decently strong guy, has some useful talent, an ally he can trust, and clearly has the motivation to win. He has a lot going in his favor, but his recklessness could easily spell disaster for him if he's not careful, and while his friendship with Peeka is great for sponsors, he's going to have to cut free of her eventually if he wants to become Panem's next victor._

 _BLAZE COLTON, 21, DISTRICT TWELVE_

 _PRIVATE SESSIONS REPORT: Blaze came in angry, and left angry. He showed an expected level of talent with swords in just narrowly defeating the beginner trainer, and then showed his true talent in hand-to-hand combat when he just narrowly defeated the intermediate trainer. Despite having 5 minutes of time still remaining, he then left without a word._

 _STRATEGY: Blaze is purposefully going in by himself, rejecting any conversation with others. He is clearly set on on winning, and won't let himself get distracted._

 _EXCEPTIONALITIES: Blaze had an older brother that died in the Games_

 _ODDS: 1:19_

 _RIS: 3_

 _NOTES TO INTERVIEWER: Blaze is a ball of rage, but he has a softer side deep down there, try talking about his sister, and avoid his district partner and older brother unless you want him to get angry (which is a reasonable idea in itself)._

 _OBSERVATIONS: Blaze is aptly named. His rage is unmatched, and he has the strength to win the fights it will undoubtedly get him into. If he can avoid picking the very few fights he'll find himself outmatched in, he could manage to not fall to the same fate as his brother._

 _CLOSING NOTES_

 _This is an exceptional group of tributes, quite oddly exceptional to be frank. The last time this many training records have been broken was the 3rd Hunger Games. There are multiple tributes in these Games that in a normal year would be so popular that there would be a discussion about whether or not to rig the games in their favor. With this years arena the playing field has been evened out in a way that no single tribute can be pinpointed as a major favorite, and much of it will frankly come down to luck. But while these tributes are almost all exceptional in their own ways, many of them are also dangerous. There are very many tributes here who could stir up trouble in a nation that is already dangerously divided. While many of these tributes are quite popular and would make for an entertaining victor, we almost also look at the bigger picture. Last year's Games drew massive ratings, but also the faintest hints of complaints from even within the Capitol, and regardless of the outcome this year there will be many upset at the wasted potential._

 _We must watch these developments with a close eye, lest we repeat the mistakes of the generations before us._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Head Gamemaker Tali Choice_

* * *

 **A/N: Whew. Just 4 more pre-games chapters left! Next chapter we'll get to see from the mentors (Glory and Audra to be specific) to look at the scores. Hope y'all enjoyed this, it was a nice break to do something a bit different this chapter, and I hope y'all liked it!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Who's report surprised you the most?**

 **Trivia(1 point): What would you try to showcase in your Private Sessions if you were in the Games?**

 **Alliances:**

 **Misery Business:** Horatio, McKenna, Merrium, Unity

 **Shattered:** Levi, Sigma

 **Ghosts:** Clyde, Rain

 **Gravity:** Ephraim, Peeka

 **Masks:** Prestige, Malcolm

 **Stuck:** Clara, Rachel


	20. The Greatest Show: Pt 1

"The Greatest Show"

* * *

 **A/N: So because I realized interviews are going to be a lot longer than I thought they would, I'm expediating the pre-games a bit by cutting out some of the other stuff. This way, each tribute gets one more POV during the Interviews or Party, and then a quick check in with the mentors and we're in the Games!**

* * *

 _~It's everything you ever want_

 _It's everything you ever need_

 _And it's here right in front of you~_

* * *

 **Prestige Freeman, 15, District One**

 **Afternoon, Wednesday, May 30th**

 **Stage Left, Flickerman Auditorium**

I don't like my prep team. Thankfully they didn't force me through the same nightmare-inducing experience as they put me through before the parade, but two hours getting dressed- most of that time spent with a blindfold on for some reason- is still not how I want to be spending my time right now. All that time too, and still when I look into the mirrors lining the waiting room I barely look different than normal. There's some makeup that makes me look just a bit older, but aside from that they just threw on a massive white coat on me. I don't really care about fashion at all, and I'm glad I'm not stuck in a puffy dress like nearly every single other girl is, but the coat seems a bit. . . lazy? It's just odd, I guess.

All twenty-three other tributes are lined up before me, most of them shaking nervously, and only a few chatting with the people next to them. Right behind me Hailey looks completely uninterested in being here, currently chipping the paint off of her fingernails as she mutters angrily to herself. Horatio meanwhile is looking like he's barely resisting murdering Hailey right here and now, and the rest of the Careers are nonchalantly chatting.

While I'm trying to keep my nerves down with these distractions, it's hard not to be a bit of a mess on the inside. The entire country is watching me, just one little slip up or mistake and everyone will realize I'm nowhere near as perfect as they're acting like I am. Galavant told me that I have the highest odds of any tribute right now, and while he tried to use that to boost my morale, all it did is confuse me. Everyone in the Capitol has expectations for me that I'm never going to meet, and the moment I step onto that stage every single person is going to realize it.

"Hey," Hailey says to me softly, glancing down at my hands, which I just now notice are shaking uncontrollably. I clench my fists, digging my fingernails into my palms in order to stop the nerves.

"What?" I ask her through gritted teeth, refusing to even look back at her.

"You're gonna do great, they're gonna love you," she says, and I nearly snap back at her before I realize just how genuinely she meant it, her eyes flirting down to her feet just as I look back at her.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I slowly nod my head. "Thanks," I say, and then after a moment let out a sigh and add in, "you too."

Even though I'm not even looking at her anymore I can practically feel her smile, and I just have to let out a deep breath and focus myself back on the stage in front of me, erasing everything else from my mind. The other tributes, the image of myself in the mirrors, the deafening sounds of the crowd, the booming of music over the speakers as Coira Thompson hypes up the crowd- all of it slowly dissipates around me, until all that I can hear is the rapid beating of my heart, and all that I feel is the steady shake of my hands.

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, the prodigal superstar, put your hands together for District One's Prestige Freeman!"

The sound of the crowd comes roaring back to life as I take a hesitant step forward, sucking in a deep breath and forcing myself to walk out to Coira, not even bothering to try to force a smile. Luckily the shaking in my hands has died down, a slight jitter in my step the only remaining sign of my nervousness. Coira doesn't even seem to notice this though, reaching out and shaking my hand, wearing a giant smile as she motions me to the throne-like chair opposite of hers.

"Take a seat, take a seat," she tells me as the crowd finally begins to quiet down just a little bit- still deafening, but not so loud that I can't hear what the woman one foot in front of me is saying through her microphone.

I follow her instructions, all of the etiquette training we spent this morning on going out the window as I slump into my chair in an attempt to look casual that probably just makes me look like a scared kid trying to sink into their seat.

"Well," Coira laughs as the crowd finally begins to quiet down. "I'd say it's safe to say that you have some fans behind you, isn't it?"

Just like that the deafening rush of noise is back, and despite myself a tiny bit of a smile creeps onto my lips as I finally allow myself to look out at the crowd. All around the massive auditorium thousands of people are chanting my name, whooping and hollering, a few people even hold signs with my head on them.

"Yeah," I choke out breathlessly, shaking my head as if to wake myself up from this daydream. "I guess so."

Coira offers me a reassuring pat on the knee, and then directs my attention to the screen behind me. "Ladies and gentlemen, as you may know we've switched things up this year to now reveal scores right here during the interviews so that you can all see the reactions of our fine tributes firsthand, and I'm now proud to announce that our first tribute, Prestige Freeman, has gotten a score of. . . ."

I suck in a deep breath, waiting for a low score to flash up on the screen, and for that small moment of genuine happiness to dissipate into thin air, their image they've built up of who I am crashing down in an instant.

The number flashes up on the screen and I close my eyes, as if not seeing it will somehow prevent it from appearing to anybody. For a moment, it almost seems to work too, the entire auditorium falling into a shocked silence, even Coira choking on her words for a minute. It only lasts a moment however, until for the third time in just a minute the crowd begins chanting my name.

My nervousness quickly disappears, swapping to confusion as I let my eyes open up and glance at the score on the screen.

"Prestige Freeman, with a score of. . . 10!" Coira looks over to me with a mixture of surprise and excitement, but I'm still stuck on the confusion, half expecting for the 0 to flicker away and reveal a 1 in its place. All that I did was run. . . I thought I'd be lucky if they gave me a 5.

"Well, as exciting as that is," Coira finally says, "And as much as we'd all love to hear about how you got that score, a little birdie told me that there's another surprise for you tonight, Prestige."

I have to break my focus away from the screen for a moment, the confusion of this night wearing down on me as I glance wearily over to Coira. "Huh?" Is all that I'm able to get out, and as the crowd busts into laughter at my response, I barely have the energy in me to mentally hit myself for letting my emotions take control of me.

Coira chuckles too, and pats me on the knee again. "That coat looks awful heavy, you must be getting cooked alive in this summer heat. Why don't you take that off?"

The crowd is dead silent again, just the odd flash of a photography reminding me that there's an entire country worth of people out there watching me right now. The coat suddenly does seem extremely heavy, and my thoughts wander back to my prep time, spent blindfolded while they put my clothes on. Hesitantly, I unbutton the thick coat, the shadow that it leaves, combined with the currently dim lighting of the stage, leaving it impossible to see what's under it. When I finally undo the last button, the coat falls down to the floor, and my jaw drops down about as far, my breath catching as the world seems to stop spinning on its axis.

Beneath the coat, and now worn proudly on my chest, is the signature blue and red jersey of the Sabres. The team that I would be playing on in just a few months if. . . all my bitter thoughts quickly disappear when I spot something else on the jersey through the dim stage lights. Right in the center of the jersey is a signature of Lars Atrius, the manager who scouted me out, and just below that is coach Carter, Marcellus to the right of him. . . Augustus, Tobias, _even Xander freaking Fate._ I know that my mouth is gaping open like a fish right now, and I'm probably murmuring to myself, but this time I don't even care, nothing able to overtake the shock of seeing the handwritten names sprawled across this jersey. The jersey that has the number 5, _my number_ , printed on the front, and my heart just about stops again when I check the back of the jersey to find _Freeman_ in bolded letters.

"I. . . I-" I can't even find any words anymore, instead just allowing a stupid smile to slip onto my lips as I soundlessly laugh to myself, absolutely sure now that this must be some sort of dream, and just hoping that I never have to wake up from it.

"Seems like you have even more fans than you know." Coira says with a warm smile, and I just nod my head, still in shock.

"Thank you," I'm finally able to choke out in a low whisper. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take in a deep breath, a determined expression falling over my features as I look out to the crowd. "I promise I'll make you all proud."

"I think you already have," Coira tells me warmly.

"Not yet," I say with tightened fists and a new resolve that I haven't felt since Hailey said my name up on that stage. "Not until I win."

"And when you do win?" Coira leads me.

I just look down at the jersey again, tracing my fingers over the number, still not over the fact that this is real. This isn't just my imagination, I can _feel_ this, this is real, not just some dream. Finally, I glance back up to Coira with a half-smile. "I guess I'll just have to pick up where I left off."

"Well, I feel like it's safe to say there a lot of people out here hoping for exactly that, before we finish up is there anything else you'd like to say to your friends and family back home?"

That question takes me off guard for a moment, and I find myself opening my mouth to just quickly and quietly tell her no, wanting to avoid thinking about anything bad right now. Everything has fallen into place, and I don't want to spend a single more moment even thinking about the bad. But before I can get the words out, another thought pops up in my head. The memory of myself in that goodbye room, numb and empty as my friends and family came by, not a single one of them believing in me, the anger I've felt at myself ever since for letting them walk all over me, for not telling them how I really feel.

"Yeah," I say, surprising even myself. "I do actually." I switch away from Coira and instead find the nearest camera and stare directly into it, no smiles, no fear, no forgiveness. "Mom, dad, Amber, Jet, Helix. . . everybody. I'm gonna prove you all wrong, and when I come back home. . . you're gonna regret ever doubting me."

I can feel the ground shake as the crowd begins to rumble with applause again, and Coira opens her mouth to say something but I'm not even listening, completely tuned out as I walk off stage, away from all the other tributes. It feels like I'm walking on air, a weight finally lifted off of my chest. It's like I can breath for the first time in my life.

As soon as I'm back off stage I'm greeted by my trio of mentors, Melody the first one to greet me as she wobbles over with her crutches to meet me halfway, her signature warm smile firmly in place. "I'm so proud of you Prestige, they loved you out there."

"You did great," Glory tells me shyly, and I smile back to her.

"Thanks."

Galavant clasps a hand on my shoulder and I glance up to him, seeing him smirking down at me proudly. "You did good kid, you set a record for highest training score that a fifteen-year-old has ever gotten while you were at it too."

"What did you do?" Glory asks quickly, seeming like she had been wanting to ask about that the entire time.

Shrugging, I glance over to the television, where Hailey is just now having her name called. "I just ran."

"You ran damn fast then," Galavant laughs, joining me in watching the screen.

"Guess so," I say, and as I do Hailey begins making her way onto the stage, looking thoroughly pissed off as she marches over with clenched fists, a glare just barely visible as her hair nearly covers up her eyes.

"What's she mad about?" Glory asks Galavant, seemingly worried.

Gal just laughs though, shaking his head. "She's always mad, I just let her take it all out on me so you all don't have to deal with it. I'm sure the past few hours of prep haven't exactly brightened her mood."

I can feel everyone in the room's eyes fall on me, seemingly expecting me to make some snarky comment, but I brush it off, continuing to watch the interview. Nothing is going to put a damper on my mood right now, not even her.

 _"Pleasure to meet you Hailey, how are you tonight?"_

 _"Fuck off."_

Galavant bursts into laughter again, and even I can't help but snicker a little bit, but Glory and Melody look completely mortified. "Gal!" Melody tells him sharply. "This isn't funny, she can't just go around-"

"Oh, no, she definitely shouldn't be going around saying that, but I can't do anything to stop it so I might as well sit back and enjoy the ride."

Melody still seems upset, but drops it at that, and thankfully for Hailey it seems that Coira has taken it in stride, joking along with her and getting the crowd from stunned silence to belly-bursting laughter.

The rest of the interview goes about the same way, with Hailey making increasingly threatening remarks to Coira, the other tributes, and the audience, with the crowd just eating it up as if she's joking along with them, something that just seems to piss Hailey off even more. After Hailey lets loose a particularly vulgar insult towards Horatio, Coira switches topics, motioning Hailey over to the screen, Hailey slapping away Coira's hand as she attempts to.

 _"Our other District One tribute, Hailey Hills, with a score of. . . 9!"_

If the crowd was stunned by my score reveal, they're just about paralyzed by Hailey's, with Galavant and I seemingly the only ones not thrown for a loop by it.

"And there's the highest score ever by a thirteen-year-old," Galavant chuckles.

Melody still seems shocked, looking back and forth between the two of us and the screen. "How-"

"She's insane with the bow," I tell her casually, not looking back from the screen. "Never misses." I can feel them all looking at me oddly, and I let out a sigh, rolling my eyes as I turn back to them. "What? We were the only ones there for the first two hours every day, it would be hard to not pay any attention to what she's doing."

Melody and Glory seem to accept this, but Gal just laughs quietly to himself, a shit-eating smirk forming on his lips that I do my best to just ignore. Don't know what's gotten him all giddy, and I don't really care either.

Hailey, meanwhile, has taken a completely different reaction to her score than anyone else did, seeming more disappointed than anything else, muttering to herself about "that sixth shot."

The interview is wrapping up now, and Coira finally asks the question that everybody knew was coming, but I- and Hailey too apparently- was not ready to hear. _"So, we're all dying to know, what is it that made you decide to choose your partner Prestige to come into the Games with you?"_

Hailey seems completely caught off guard, and for a moment all of that rage and aggressiveness disappears, and she's that same shy, cheeks-flushed kid that she is whenever we cross paths in training. _"Fuck off,"_ she finally says, but there's no anger in it this time, her voice cracking and coming out in a way that makes it seem like she's begging for this woman to just leave her alone.

She doesn't stick around to say her final words to somebody back home, marching off stage and heading directly towards us with her head bowed. I do my best to not look her way as she exits the stage and enters into the waiting room with us, ignoring the way that she looks to be on the verge of tearing up as she brushes past the three of us, continuing to walk to the elevator as if we didn't exist.

Galavant hustles to catch up, throwing an arm around her shoulder and whispering something into her ear, but it doesn't seem to do any good as she just shrugs him away. Melody and Glory exchange glances, and I just shrug and follow after Gal and Hailey towards the elevators.

All five of us file into the elevator, crowding it up just a little bit as Hailey takes special care to end up on the opposite side of the elevator as me, all three mentors between us. Despite that, the moment that the elevator door closes, Hailey just lets out a sigh, biting her lip as she glances over to me. "I'm sorry," she chokes out in a weak, wobbly voice that has so much pain in it that it almost manages to make me angry at her for being so hurt by something that was her choice. Almost.

"Yeah," is all I say instead, head bowed, tracing my fingers over the signatures on my jersey. "Me too."

 **Levi Ezra, 17, District Five**

 **Afternoon, Wednesday, May 30th**

 **Stage Left, Flickerman Auditorium**

Things have gotten quiet fast real quick. It's not like there was a _ton_ of chatting even before the interviews started, but now that the Four and Six pairs have stopped chatting, it's gotten pretty silent in here. I mean, aside from the audience that's so loud it hurts, and the interviews going up on the stage.

"Hey, Sig," I nudge her on the shoulder, noticing her start to pale as she stares out at the stage. "What do you call a person with no body, and just a nose? Nobody nose."

I burst into laughter, and she just rolls her eyes, a tiny hint of a smile appearing. Not much, but enough to keep her mind off of the rest of the night. Once she realized that she had to do the interview this morning she just about had a panic attack, and finding out that there's going to be a party afterwards didn't exactly help. It's just good that Audra and Aleksey were there to calm her down, because while I do my best to keep Sigma's spirits lifted, it's hard to relate to getting nervous for something that I'm beyond excited about. Audra and Aleksey both were great though, they gave her advice I never could have given her. I've really taken for granted just how great it is to have a team, especially with hearing some of the stories of what the other districts are like.

Malcolm's interview is just starting to come to a close, and his went just about as well as most of the ones before him. The guy is crazy smart, and he was pretty funny too. Didn't hurt that he also scored an 7. Not as good as the 12 that Horatio got, but it's a lot better than the 2 that Unity got, and is definitely going to be way more than Sigma and I get- not that either of us are really too worried about that.

Cyril is up next, and the poor kid is shaking to death as he goes up on stage. He's dressed up in a tux so bright white that it burns to look at, and they managed to make him look even younger than he already is. Just the image of him reminds me of Sigma, and makes me feel bad for letting that kid go into the Games by himself. I quickly shake that thought off, though. As much as I may not like it, only one person can win, and I need to make sure that it's Sigma. I can't be everybody's hero, but just maybe I can at least be Sigma's.

The interviewer reveals Cyril's score to be a 3, and compliments him on it- even if the kid seems to be hitting himself over it. Coira seems to be good at keeping everybody's moods lifted, though, and before long Cyril isn't a total wreck anymore, even if he doesn't stop shaking and desperately avoiding looking at the crowd. The entire interview is like a minefield though, and every time Coira tries to bring any sort of topic up Cyril seems to shut down. His family, his friends, his mentor and district partner, training, the Games- everything seems to send him into a panic.

When Cyril is asked if he has anything he wants to say to his friends and family back home, he seems to barely be holding in tears, and mumbles out a goodbye that doesn't seem to leave much optimism about him coming out alive.

While the audience had quieted down a bit during the District Three interviews, they're right back to popping my eardrums when McKenna is called out, the girl walking out with a charming smile. She seems to have full control of her entire interview, taking charge from the very beginning and speaking with purpose and confidence. She seems more like a politician giving a speech than she does a kid, and the crowd seems to be eating it up. When it's time for her to say some words to her loved ones, she seems to hesitate for the first time, unsure what to say.

After a long moment of silence, she settles on "I'll see you soon," and leaves the stage to thunderous applause- applause that only gets louder when her district partner is called onto the stage. While most of the tributes so far have mostly just been themselves on stage- something Audra and Aleksey insisted was the best interview angle for me- Merrium clearly has an angle going for her. She struts onto the stage in clothing so revealing I feel guilty to even look her way with Sky still back home.

The audience doesn't seem to share any of that guilt though, cat-calls and whistling piercing my ears, while Merrium just smiles seductively out at the crowd, even blowing a kiss out towards the audience. Her interview goes exactly as you'd expect, with her making flirtatious remarks and just generally being a piece of eye candy. I've seen the way that she's been leading the big guy from Two on, and I've also seen the wedding ring she was wearing during her first day of training, so at this point nothing she does will really surprise me. I just feel bad for the guy back home. I try to imagine myself having to stand back and watch Sky flirt with an entire country while I'm stuck at home- but the image isn't one that I can even really imagine.

While my head is up in the clouds, Merrium finishes up her interview, ending with a suggestive note that causes applause that's louder than I ever thought was even possible. But to my surprise, the noise doesn't quiet down one bit once my name is called, and I'm stunned in place for a moment before I can get my feet moving, jogging out onto stage with a bright smile. The crowd is even larger than I thought, seemingly endless rows of people all lined up, chanting out a combination of Merrium and I's names, signs and pictures being held up as a song blasts over the stereos. I pause a moment before getting to my seat just to take the moment in, and can't help but think that now wouldn't be such a bad time to die.

One glance back over my shoulder changes my mind though, Sigma giving me a meek wave that I return before jogging the rest of the way to Coira, waving and letting out a few whoops of my own before giving Coira a quick handshake and sitting down.

"Well you certainly seem excited to be here," Coira says, nudging me on the shoulder as the crowd lets out another explosive roar.

"To see so many people out here, even if they were all booing me this would still be insane, I've never seen so many people in once place, it's amazing."

"Well, they certainly aren't booing you, that's for sure, and now we'll have to see if we can give them one more thing to cheer about with your training score!" She exclaims, and I can't even hold in my laughter as I look up at the screen, fully ready for what's about to happen.

"Oh, it's definitely gonna blow your minds," I joke. "I'll tell you that."

"Levi Ezra, with a score of. . . 0?" Coira reads the number, seemingly in disbelief as the crowd instantly silences in shock, the only noise that cuts through the silence being my uncontainable laughter.

"Pretty impressive, huh?" I laugh, and Coira chuckles a bit as she shakes her head.

"Even more rare than our 12 that we got tonight, in fact," Coira points out, finally breaking the silence of the crowd and getting them to join in laughing.

"Hey, what can I say? I'm pretty amazing, I know."

"That you are," she agrees. "So why don't you tell us a bit about your amazing self, I'm sure a charming guy like yourself has quite the group of friends back home."

"Quite the group is one way to describe them," I laugh, resisting the urge to roast every single one of them on national television right now. "But really, they're all awesome. Ricky, Sarah, Luxana, Ellie. . ." I pause for a moment, smile faltering for a moment. "Sky." I glance down at the floor for a moment, before quickly putting my smile back in place. "Don't know what I would do without them. Couldn't ask for better friends."

"Well, it sounds like you have quite a great group of friends back home, but it also seems that you've made some friends here in the Capitol, can you tell us about that?"

I nod my head and glance back to Sig, quirking a smile before turning back to Coira. "Yeah, Sigma is amazing, and I couldn't hope for a better district partner, or a better friend to go into the Games with."

The audience lets out a collective _awww_ at that, and Coira signals for me to continue. "Anybody else in your alliance?"

"I dunno," I shrug. "I mean, we're not exactly handing out formal invites or anything, but we've been hanging out with Hailey lately and I wouldn't mind having her around in the arena."

"Hailey Hills? Really?" Coira asks, seemingly taken aback. "Certainly would make up for your score," she teases, "but she seems a bit more. . . aggressive than I would expect out of an ally of yours."

I laugh at that, scratching the back of my neck as I try to think of how to respond. "Yeah, she's a bit angry, but there's more too her than that, you'd be surprised."

"It seems like you're someone who likes to see the best in others," Coira smiles. "A great trait to have, but maybe not during the Games."

"Well," I laugh humorously, looking down at my hands. "I'm not too worried about that, this. . . it's gonna be a one way trip."

The audience murmurs in confusion, and even Coira feigns surprise. "Why do you say that?"

Twisting my wrists, I glance up at her and let out a breath. "Well, bit of a long story. I don't really even know the medical mumbo jumbo, but basically I got a thing up in my head that could kill me at any moment without me even realizing it. . ." I pause for a moment and shrug. "Well, should have already killed me, actually. Doctors said that it should've killed me by May 25th, but here we are still. Fifty-fifty whether or not I'll even still be standing tomorrow though."

Everyone in the crowd seems to have been struck silent, and Coira places a hand over her heart, offering me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry to hear that, that's quite unfortunate that anybody has to deal with something so tragic."

The whole mood seems to have shifted to become much more dark, and I shrug it off, placing a smile on my lips as I nonchalantly stick my thumbs into my pockets. "Ah, not all bad. Got a disorder named after me now, so that's pretty cool. Plus, it keeps me on my toes, hard to get scared about dying when you know that there's not really anything you can do to stop it."

Coira smiles at me warmly at that, nodding her head. "That's quite the positive outlook to have. Before we wrap this up is there anything you'd like to say to your friends and family back home?"

"Yeah," I say instantly. "Lots, actually. Mom and dad, you guys were the best parents I could have possibly had, and there's no way that I'd be the person I am today if it weren't for you, thanks for always being there for me when I need it. Rickey, Luxana, save me a seat at your guys' wedding. Ellie, keep out of trouble, and make sure you and Rickey don't do anything _too_ stupid, jumping out of moving vehicles isn't as fun as it looks."

The crowd laughs at that, and I can tell Coira wants clarification on that, but I move on anyways, knowing my time is running out and still having so much more that I want to say. "Sarah, you were a great friend, and I wish that we had known each other for longer. Try not too be _too much_ like me though, alright? You're already a hell of a lot smarter than me, and you're never gonna be as funny as I am," I tease, and Coira looks like she's going to cut me off with that, but I quickly continue before she gets the chance.

"And Sky. . ." I trail off for a moment after that, not even sure what to say. "Best nine months of my life, no question. You're my everything, and I'll love you for the rest of my life. I. . . I don't have any idea where I'm going after I die, but as long as you're there with me, that'll be enough."

There's not really anything else I have left to say, and instead I just offer one last smile to the nearest camera before Coira thanks me for my time, and sends me off stage. It seems almost surreal to be leaving, my thoughts almost impossible to hear through the chants of the crowd. The interviews are over. I'll go to the party tonight, and then if I'm lucky I'll be alive to go into the Games tomorrow. There's a good chance that's the last time Sky, Sarah, Rickey, mom, dad. . . all of them are gonna see me. As much as I try not to think about things like that, the thought is still unsettling. I know that there's going to be a last moment eventually. . . I just don't know if I'll ever truly be ready for it.

"Levi!" Aleksey calls out as he exits the elevator, and suddenly I'm grateful for him and Audra for being here to distract me. "Great job out there lad."

"You did good," Audra agrees with a shy smile, and I meet them halfway, right in front of a television broadcasting the interviews.

"Thanks," I say, and I nearly leave it at that, but with just the three of us here, and with all my thoughts about Sky over the past few minutes. . . "Audra," I suddenly blurt out. "Can I ask you something?"

"Um, yeah! Of-of course," she stutters out.

"I-I know this is a lot to ask," I start, not sure what exactly to say.

"Anything," Audra reassures me. "You've done so much for Sigma the past few days, if you need something. . . I can do it."

"I'm just. . . worried for Sky. My mom and dad have each other, and so does Ricky and Luxana, Ellie is tough, and Sarah can handle herself, but Sky. . . I just, I want to make sure that she's okay. I just-"

"I'll keep an eye on her," Audra interrupts me, quirking a smile. 'It's the least I can do," she says softly, and I quirk a smile back in her direction.

"Thanks."

The conversation is left at that, as we all three turn our attention to the television screen just in time to see Sigma slowly making her way across the stage. Her nervousness seems wiped away, replaced by that blanket of emotionlessness that she wore during the train rides. I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing.

As she sits down the jitters seem to come back a bit as her leg seems to twitch, and Coira offers a reassuring smile to her, greeting her and without waiting for any sort of response informing the crowd they're going to take a look at her score. To nobody in this room's surprise she also got a 0, and the crowd and Coira seem less shocked this time as well, not even questioning Sigma on it as she instead moves on to another topic.

The rest of the interview seems to flash by in a blur, Coira asking questions about Aleksey, Audra, and Hailey, but mostly asking about me, while Sigma just nods or shakes her head as answers. Before very long at all they're at the end of the interview, and Coira asks the first question that will actually require her to speak up. _"Do you have anything you'd like to say to a loved one?"_

Sigma seems to lose herself in her thoughts, and even though I don't know much about her home, and I haven't thought that it would be a good idea to ask, I know that she doesn't have anyone back home for her. Audra seems to be thinking this same thing as she turns to Aleksey with a worried look.

I'm not paying that any mind though, eyes still glued to the screen, willing Sigma to be strong, wishing that I could be out there with her right now to help her through this. In the end though, there's nothing I can do to help her, and instead I'm helpless as she continues to stare off into the distance blankly, for ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds, before finally Coira finally decides to cut things off.

Sigma takes another few moments to snap out of it, and when she does she just gets up and lifelessly shuffles off stage, a blank expression in her eyes. The moment that she steps through the curtains and meets us off-stage I'm rushing over to her, keeping my distance from her but offering a reassuring smile as I crouch down to meet her at eye level. "You did great Sig, I'm proud of you."

She doesn't respond though, just continuing to shuffle forwards toward me, her eyes starting to bubble up until she finally just collapses up against me, throwing her head over my shoulder as she silently sobs. I can't even find any words to say, and after a moment I give up on even trying, just lightly patting her on the back as I suck in a deep breath.

I may not be able to get the chance to see Sky again, but if I can just give this one person a chance to get to live the rest of their life, it'll be worth it. That's all that I can tell myself as of late, but with every passing day it's getting harder and harder to believe.

* * *

 **A/N: And there's part 1 of the interviews! Next chapter we'll be visiting Clyde and Blaze with the second part of the interviews! After that we'll be spending two chapters at the party, and then one final chapter and we're in the Games! We're so close now and I'm beyond excited to show y'all what I have planned for this arena. It's gonna be wild.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite interview so far?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Who's score surprised you the most? (For reference, in order of their interviews their scores were: 10, 9, 12, 2, 7, 3, 10, 9, 0, 0) [keep in mind in my cannon scores have been restructured to make it harder for non-careers to score above a 7, and made it possible to get a 12(Horatio is the 3rd tribute to score it)])**

 **Alliances:**

 **Misery Business:** Horatio, McKenna, Merrium, Unity

 **Shattered:** Levi, Sigma

 **Ghosts:** Clyde, Rain

 **Gravity:** Ephraim, Peeka

 **Masks:** Prestige, Malcolm

 **Stuck:** Clara, Rachel


	21. The Greatest Show: Pt 2

"The Greatest Show"

* * *

 **A/N: A bit of a shorter chapter because I'm really focused on getting into the Games now and am speeding things up a bit (a lot). Still spent some good time on both Clyde and Blaze though, just mostly cut back on time that the rest of the tributes got. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the second part of the interviews with our two angry boys.**

 **Warning: Y'all know the drill. Vulgar language in Blaze's POV. He angry.**

* * *

 _~Ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for_

 _Been searching in the dark, your sweat soaking through the floor_

 _And buried in your bones there's an ache that you can't ignore_

 _Taking your breath, stealing your mind_

 _And all that was real is left behind~_

* * *

 **Clyde Kaniff, 22, District Six**

 **Afternoon, Wednesday, May 30th**

 **On Stage, Flickerman Auditorium**

This is the last thing that I want to be doing right now. Sitting in front of the entire nation, with the woman across from me trying to pry out every little private detail of my life. I don't even like to think about my past, so you can be damn sure that I won't be putting out my life story to the entire world. Atlas could try all he wanted to convince me otherwise, but none of that is ever coming out. Glancing over and seeing Rain waiting just off stage only serves to strengthen my resolve there.

"So Clyde, while we all know that you and your daughter Rain are sure to be inseparable in the Games, is there anyone else that you might have an alliance with?"

"No."

"Is that a certainty, or is there still some chance-"

"It's a certainty," I interrupt, not wanting to play along with this stupid Game and wanting nothing less than to just be done with this already. Maybe if I keep on giving her non-answers she'll give up and end it early.

I get no such luck though, the woman continuing to interrogate me, undeterred. "So, do you and Rain have a specific plan in mind for the Games, or are you just going to tackle your challenges as they come?"

"The plan is to stay alive," I say sharply.

She just laughs though, either having zero awareness or just being a really good actress. "That's a reasonable plan I suppose." She pauses for a moment, turning towards the screen and motioning for me to do the same. "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for, Clyde Kaniff of District Six with a score of. . . seven!"

There's a large applause for that, but I don't feel any happiness at that. The little kids from One got a nine and a ten, I'm not going to be sitting here proud of a seven. Then again, I don't give a shit either way, the Capitol can say judge our skills however they want, but there's nobody in this place that I wouldn't kill if it meant making sure Rain stays safe.

"That's quite the impressive score there," she says, but I don't share my thoughts with her, instead just grunting in response.

"Well, it's been a pleasure speaking with you Clyde, is there anything else you'd like to say to a loved one?"

I suck in a deep breathe, and look away from the audience for a moment to glance back off stage. Rain is standing right by the edge, excited grin as she barely shows any signs of nervousness, trying so hard to act brave even when she's scared. "There's only person I care about right now, and I won't be saying goodbye to her yet."

I flash the tiniest bit of a smile in Rain's direction as she beams back, and with that stand up, ignoring formalities as I brush past the interviewer and head off stage. All things considered, that interview didn't go awful. The woman had the common decency to at least not try to dig into my past, even if she was a bit pushy with getting answers. I tried to best to be at least a bit friendly as much as I didn't want to, at least for Rain's sake.

Atlas is waiting for me as soon as I reach backstage, and he nods in my direction, eyes still glued on the television screen. "Good job out there, they may not be flooding you with sponsors, but they see you as a contender." He glances away from the screen for a moment, his eyes a bit hazy for a moment as he continues. "Match up a strong tribute with an adorable one and they feel more confident putting their sponsorship money in on their favorite tribute- doesn't feel like a waste of money anymore." I can tell from the look in his eyes that he's not fully talking about us, and I think better of saying anything, allowing him to be alone with his thoughts. I don't doubt that over 20 or so years of doing this he's seen some shit, and I know damn well how frustrating someone trying to pretend they know what you've been through can be.

After a few moments he seems to snap out of it, back to his calm and composed self as he turns back to the television screen, myself joining him in waiting for Rain to come up on stage. "You know, there is one more way for you to win over some sponsors though, if you're willing."

"I don't think I am," I answer bluntly, not even glancing over at him.

"Not even for her?" He asks, Rain stepping out onto stage on cue, a shimmering black and blue dress that manages to look like rain drops falling in the night, the image of that night with Jane flooding into my mind before I can stop it. Ever since that night everything in my life has revolved around Rain, trying to make sure she stays safe. . . even on the too often occasions that I failed. The jitters in her leg are barely noticeable as she bounces across the stage now, a genuine smile worn proudly as she shyly says hello, that thick accent of hers coming in fully.

"What do you want me to do?"

He lets out a sigh, shaking his head. "You aren't going to like it."

"I know."

He pauses for a moment, glancing away from the television screen for a moment and looking me in the eyes, seemingly testing if I'm being truthful or not. After a long moment he nods his head and goes back to watching the interview. "You already know about the party tonight. Big formal dinner with the higher ups with reporters all over the place, and then a block party open to the entire Capitol. Lots of potential sponsors flooding the streets and trying to get to know the tributes so they know who to send their wads of cash to."

"Get to it already," I sigh, suppressing a smile as Rain animatedly begins to talk about her friends back home.

"Capitolites are horny little bastards, they eat up things like the 'tough guy with a warm heart' sort of angle. You want to be flooded in sponsors? Turn up the charm, get them to want _you_ to be the one to leave the arena."

"But I don't _want_ to be the one to leave the arena," I tell him sharply.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this," Atlas exasperates. "You either do it or you don't, but if you really want to give Rain the best chance to get out of that arena, you're not going to like everything you have to do."

I'm left to chew on that as the two of us fall silent, partially because of Atlas' words, but mostly because of Rain. The interviewer asked her about Amara, and it's hard to decide whether Rain or Atlas is the one less prepared for that question. While Rain stutters out a few words about how she was a great friend, even managing to flash a smile and play innocent about what really happened to her, Atlas just seems to freeze up, the only sign that he even heard anything being the slow clenching and unclenching of his fists.

Luckily, the interview lightens up a bit after that, with Rain quickly switching topics by bringing up Amara's slip up in her interview. _"Oh my gosh, I died when she said that I liked Ryan."_

 _"Pretty embarrassing, huh?" The woman laughs._

 _"He was sitting right next to me!" She exclaims, and the entire audience seems to roar in laughter, while Rain just shyly giggles, fiddling with her thumbs._

While I smile at the image, trying to ignore the problems and worries that tonight and tomorrow will bring, Atlas is unable to. "Clyde," he says suddenly, and there's more emotion coming from his voice than I think I've ever heard from him, his voice shaking slightly as he looks over to me with a mask of determination barely hiding the pain underneath it.

"Yeah?" I ask carefully.

"You need to. . . I just-" Atlas cuts himself off, letting in a deep breath as he shakes his head. "Listen. I- I was always the mentor that was able to put everything from the Games behind me. Caleb, Kyle, Brendon. . . all of them got worn down by the Games, and mentoring, and it's hard to blame them. Twenty-three years now I've been doing this, and in all that time I've brought back one lousy victor, and I failed her so horribly afterwards that she died of a morphine overdose within two years. But despite it all. . . I just left it behind. I tried my hardest to bring them home and when I inevitably failed to, I just forgot about it, and went back home to my family."

He pauses for a moment, glancing towards the screen for a moment and sucking a breath before continuing. "And then last year happened. I have a daughter, eight years old, sweetest kid you'll ever meet, and when for the first time I wasn't mentoring teenagers willing to kill. . . but a kid, it become a hell of a lot more real. When she. . ." he coughs into his fist. "when she died, I wasn't able to leave it back home this time. How could I, when every time I looked at my own daughter, ever time she laughed, or smiled, or cracked a joke, it was all just another reminder of the little girl just like her that I failed. A reminder of the father and mother that don't have that laughter in their life anymore. Every single day is another reminder of the kid who is dead because I wasn't able to save her. I can't handle going through that again. I need to bring someone home, somebody that I can see everyday and remember that all of this-" he motions around the room, "is worth something. That _I'm_ worth something."

There's an explosion of applause from the stage as Rain ends her interview, and Atlas sighs, looking down to the ground. "I need you to make sure she wins, Clyde. I can't keep on going on like this, and if I have to see another kid die because I wasn't able to save her. . . if I have to live through another constant reminder of the blood on my hands. . . I don't know if I'll be around for another chance next year."

He seems completely breathless, and I have to just pause for a moment to soak everything in, all the emotion and truthfulness that this man just laid down at my feet- the responsibility that he's placing on my shoulders. I don't need any more reasons to make sure Rain wins, but. . . my thoughts go back to Atlas' suggestion earlier and I find myself with a new resolve. Rain needs to win, no matter what. I've already failed her at every turn of my entire life, from the moment that she entered my life that stormy night.

I won't allow myself to let her down again.

 **Blaze Colton, 21, District Twelve**

 **Evening, Wednesday** **, May 30th**

 **Stage Left, Flickerman Auditorium**

So much fucking time waiting. Can't they just let us wait on our floor for the first two hours of this long-ass night? Because I'm really not interested in watching a bunch of dead kids walking stutter through their boring interviews with that annoying woman. I haven't had a choice though, dressed up in this uncomfortable tuxedo and stuck standing in a line behind my asshole district partner.

With nothing else to do, I've half paid attention to the interviews, mostly only tuning in one the ones that are at least somewhat interesting. It was a bit confusing to listen to Ephraim's ally, while I don't exactly like the guy, I thought higher of him than allying up with a silly ditz. Maybe he just wants some eye candy to keep him company in the Games, who knows, I'm not exactly going to put anything past an asshole that makes fun of little kids.

The girl spent her entire time raving about how amazing her fiance was, which was boring enough to listen to for five minutes on its own without her psycho district partner going on about how much he hates her and her family and how he was going to murder her in the arena. Like chill out dude. The District Eleven interviews managed to be even bigger shitshows thanks to the psychopath dude. Not that I'm too pissed off, the Capitol booed him so hard I won't be surprised if they blow him up on his pedestal.

Ephraim's interview is just now wrapping up, and while the crowd is fully sympathetic to him now, I'm not. He can go on for as long as he wants about his tragic family situation, or how he's fighting to get his girlfriend out of a toxic environment, whenever I see him the only image I can muster is of the first time I saw him, taunting my little sister, another one of the endless line of jackasses that try to put her down. He may have the Capitol fooled, but not me.

As my name is called up onto stage, I cling to that memory, feed off the rage that it fills my entire being with. My fists clench as I march out onto stage, heavy breaths as I hone in on that focal point, my anger just swelling up more and more with every moment until I'm right in front of the interviewer. She gives me an odd look as she keeps her distance from me, not quite seeming scared of me, but more just cautious. Not that she has anything to worry about. As much as I would love to punch in a Capitolites teeth to the back of her head, I'm saving that anger for the tributes. June is counting on me to come back home, and I won't let anything get in the way of that.

"Welcome Blaze, please, have a seat!" She greets cheerily, laughing humorlessly as she sits down opposite of me, not even bothering to go for a handshake.

"Whatever," I say, just barely having the restraint to use the same response as the One girl and just tell her to fuck right off. I have to get back home for June. That mantra runs through my mind on repeat, the only thing that can possibly calm me down the slightest bit.

She wastes no time jumping into the questioning the moment I sit down. "So Blaze, you've been causing quite the stir in the Capitol, already rising to become one of the favorites to take home the crown. Do you think you have what it takes to become Panem's next victor?"

What a stupid fucking question. That's what I want to say, but I manage to bite my tongue and not say that. Think of June. . . and besides, she's had to do twenty-three interviews in a row at this point, not really surprising she's out of good interview questions. Just more reason to make this night somehow not drag on so fucking long.

"Of course I do," I snort instead. "There isn't anyone here I'm scared of."

"Really? Those are bold words considering the high level of competition you have," she prods, and I again have to bite my tongue to stop myself from snapping out at her.

"I don't see any competition. All I see is a bunch of kids that have probably never been in an actual fight before in their life."

"And what about you? What experience do you have that puts you over the edge?" She asks with interest, leaning forward.

"I've been in a lot of fights, and I don't usually lose," I say harshly, the memory of Ephraim popping into my head again, that rage continuing to pump through my veins.

"Well, let's see if your training score can back up those claims, shall we? Blaze Colton, our final tribute of the night, with a score of. . . seven!" The audience lets out a roar at that, and while I'm mostly just pissed off at how those dumbass Gamemakers could possibly think that a thirteen-year-old girl is more dangerous in a fight than me, it's hard to stay mad when I remember that Ephraim got a six.

"Very impressive!' She exclaims. "I don't think many are going to be doubting your fighting ability then, will they?"

"For their own sake they better not," I threaten.

"Well Blaze, while there's nobody that's going to be doubting you have the skills to win, I think everybody is dying to know what it is you have that's motivating you to get home?"

"I have more reason to get home than anybody else here does," I say bluntly. The idea of sitting here and telling the Capitol about June makes me sick to my stomach, but at the same time, a part of me wants to let the whole world know just how amazing she is. And let the world know just how shitty people like Ephraim are for putting her down at every step of her life.

"And what would that be?" She asks, and the entire auditorium seems to be entirely silent, all waiting for my answer.

As much as I despise all the people out in front of me, and want to just shut them out and not let them get the satisfaction of getting the story that they want, more than anything else I just want what's best for June. She still has that writing competition from school, they choose just one person to get to come to the Capitol, if I let everyone know she's the reason I'm fighting to win, maybe they'll let her be the one. Even if it takes me swallowing my anger at the assholes that took Ace from us, and are trying to take me from June now, if it has even the slightest chance of helping her I'll do it in a heartbeat. Her before me, and me before everyone else. Always.

"My sister, June," I finally answer. "She's the smartest, bravest kid ever, and she's going to do amazing things with her life, with or without me, I know it. I just want to be able to be around to with her for it all though, and I'm not going to let anybody here stop me from it."

The crowd lets out a mixture of cheers and sympathetic cooing at that, and it takes everything in me to not show the disgust I feel towards everyone here. We're not even human to them, just characters in their Games. They pretend that they feel sorry for us, but our problems aren't even real to them.

"Well, I'm sure that she's glad to have such a caring big brother to look out for her," she says, doing that same sympathetic voice that just brings me closer to overflowing with anger. "Is there anything else you'd like to say to your loved ones back home?"

"No, because anything I want to say, I'll be there to say in person."

She laughs shortly at that, and goes to say something but I don't give her the chance, quickly marching off stage now that my time is up and I'm allowed to get the hell out of here. The woman just shakes it off and starts to give her final speech to the crowd which I quickly tune out, pushing through the curtains, glad to see that Ephraim and my useless mentor are both gone. Looks like she's done trying to even hide who her favorite is.

Rose is here waiting for me instead, my escort flashing me a thumbs up as soon as she sees me. "Good interview Blaze," she says, knowing by now to keep the conversations with me short, thankfully. As far as Capitolites go she isn't half bad, gets on my nerve less than Tristan and Ephraim do anyways.

"You ready for the rest of the night?" She asks.

The reminder comes down on me like a ton of bricks, a groan escaping me involuntarily as I remember that my night isn't even close to over. "Fuck."

"Yeah, It's sure to be a blast," she quips sarcastically, hitting the button to call the elevator.

"Because this night wasn't already long enough," I murmur to myself.

She snorts at that, the two of us stepping into the open elevator doors. "Tell me about it."

* * *

 **A/N: Again, short chapter, I know. I'm already a bit behind in posting this though and really just have a lot of motivation to get to the Games right now. We got just our two party chapters up ahead, then one final mentor check-in before we're in the Games! Can't believe we're already almost there! Hope that you guys enjoyed our final interview chapter, and I'll be seeing you next chapter with part 1 of the party- as we visit McKenna, Ephraim, Sigma, and Rain! Maybe one of the mentors too, I dunno. We'll see how long it gets :P**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite interview this chapter?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Who are you most looking forward to seeing interact at the party?**

 **Final Training Scores(since I didn't get around to mentioning all of them):**

 **0-** Sigma, Levi

 **1-** Rain

 **2-** Juno, Bluebell, Unity

 **3-** Rachel, Cyril

 **4-** Peeka, Bailey

 **5-** Cedric

 **6-** Ephraim, Nicholas, Lex, Frazier

 **7-** Blaze, Malcolm, Clyde, Clara

 **8-**

 **9-** Merrium, Hailey

 **10-** Prestige, McKenna

 **11-**

 **12-** Rex


	22. The Party: Good Old Days

"Good Old Days"

* * *

 **A/N: Here we go, the first part of the party! Basically, the party works like this (thanks to Celtic for inspiration for a lot of my ideas): there's a short formal dinner with the president and other higher up Capitolites, and then afterwards there's a massive block party encompassing the entire Capitol. Tributes are free to do whatever and go wherever for 4 hours, but at midnight will be brought back to the training center. That's basically the jist of it. Hope you enjoy the chapter!  
**

* * *

 _~Someday soon, your whole life's gonna change_

 _You'll miss the magic of these good old days~_

* * *

 **McKenna Bay, 17, District Four**

 **Evening, Wednesday, May 30th**

 **100 Colfax Avenue, The Presidential Palace**

Today is the most important day of my life. That's no exaggeration either. I've been to meetings with governors, peacekeepers, academy leaders, and victors, and made lasting impressions every time. Now I just need to do that one more time. But the men and women that I'm with now are much more important than anybody that I've ever met with before.

All twenty-four tributes are seated along the middle of the long rectangular table, flanked on either sides of the table by Capitolites. At the head is President Choice, next to her Head Gamemaker Choice, then Vice President Ceaser, and a few other Gamemakers. On the other side sits Coira and Apollo Thompson, as well as a few higher up politicians and directors that I don't particularly recognize.

I was lucky enough to be placed near the president, having just two of the Gamemakers in between me and the most powerful woman in all of Panem. If I impress her enough during this dinner, then after I win. . . there's no limit to what I'll be able to do. Forget becoming mayor of District Four, I could rise as far as my aspirations can take me.

Most everyone at the table is dead silent, just a few of the Capitolites chatting back and forth, even the more chatty tributes clearly being nervous about being seated next to such powerful men and women. Not to mention that many of the people at this table will have a direct impact on our chances of survival over the next few weeks. Make a bad impression and they could kill you in the arena in a heartbeat. Not something that I intend on doing.

"So Mr. Ezra," the president speaks up, any remaining chatter immediately cutting off, while the boy in question looks up from his plate, slurping up the rest of his noodles.

"Hm?" He responds, wiping at his mouth with his sleeve.

Surprisingly, President Choice doesn't seem to mind the lack of respect, an amused yet confused look shining through as she sets down her glass of wine. "I've heard much praise from our head trainer this year directed towards you. Ms. Harper seems to think you were quite talented at in-combat maneuverability, it's a shame we didn't get to see it during your session."

There's clearly a bit of venom in that remark, and all eyes seem to fall to the boy who received a zero training score, but he just laughs it off, shrugging. "Yeah, it's too bad, I'll be sure to show all of you my maneuverability on the dance floor though," he winks, and there's a few giggles at that comment, but I just keep a straight face, watching the president for her reaction. After a long moment, she cracks the faintest hint of a smile, and I follow suite as she switches her attention to another tribute, hazel eyes twinkling in amusement.

"Ms. Freeman, you seem to be quite enamored with that jersey of yours," she chuckles, an awkward smattering of forced laughter immediately following from the Capitolites surrounding her.

Prestige seems taken aback, snapping out of her daydream as she absently traces her fingers across the lettering on the jersey. "Still in shock about it all. . . m'am," she quickly tosses in at the end.

President Choice smiles at this, methodically tapping her fingers against her chin. "You didn't bring a token with you to the Capitol, did you Ms. Freeman?"

"Uh, no, I didn't, m'am," she stutters out, fiddling with her collar.

"Well then, since you seem to love that jersey so much, why don't you take it in with you as your token?" She offers casually, taking a sip of her wine.

"Madame president," one of her aids immediately speaks up. "Tokens require a three day inspection period-"

"Please, what harm could one possibly do with a jersey, besides, what's the point of being president if you don't get to bend a few rules now and then?" She smirks, her aid falling back into line.

"I. . . thank you, m'am," Prestige jumbles out, a broad smile as she continues to trace her fingers along the fabric.

"Mr Colton," she greets next, the boy seated at the very other end of the table grunting in response, clearly not interested in a conversation. "Your sister is quite the talented writer. I've read her recap, and it was quite good. I wouldn't be surprised to see her here in the Capitol sometime in the coming weeks. You should be proud."

The rage-fueled man seems to soften up at that for a moment, nodding his head. "I am," he says, and just like that the moment of weakness is gone and he's back to glaring across the table. I make a mental note of the slip-up in case I ever run into him. Never hurts to have information on other tributes filed away in your head, never know when it could come in handy.

"Ah, and Ms. Rain, I'm glad to see that dear Amara's confession of your love for your friend hasn't embarrassed you too deeply."

"Oh, it has," she giggles in response, her accent coming in thick just like it did during her interview and reapings. An accent that was nowhere to be seen during training, something interesting to note. A built in mechanism to hide her nervousness? Unlikely that information will ever have any use in the arena, but no harm in storing it away anyways.

"Well, I'm glad to see that you're still cheerful through it all, that takes a lot of bravery, and I commend you for it," she compliments, and her voice seems truly genuine. She offers the small girl a nod, while Rain just blushes and offers a shy smile.

She looks around the table, eyes scanning past mine as she glances just across the table from me, a smile appearing on her thin lips. "And how could I forget about Ms. Hailey Hills?"

The ex-Career just snorts at this though. "Two names, huh? Aren't I special."

The girl sounds angry, and I can see a few Peacekeepers even taking hesitant steps towards the table, but the president just chuckles, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands over he lap. "Indeed you are, although I would advise you to take better control of your emotions." Hailey looks like she's about to speak up at this, but President Choice cuts her off. "And I'm not just talking about your anger," she suggests, offering a knowing smile.

Hailey seems to be quelled by this, leaning back into her chair as her cheeks flush red, looking like she wants to say something but biting her tongue anyways. Not any new information to be gathered from that, I already know well enough her weakness around her district partner. Horatio's broken thumb is a reminder of that one. Still though, it's interesting to see just how unstable her emotions are, that'll be the weakness to exploit whenever facing her.

The president's eyes seem to fall on to me for a moment, and I straighten myself up in my seat, but as soon as I do her eyes fall to my right, towards my district partner. "Ah, and Mrs. . . I apologize, I actually don't know your fiance's surname, if you wanted to share that with me so I can properly address you."

Merrium seems completely caught off guard by that, her hand proudly displaying her diamond ring quickly going under the table. "Unimportant," she smiles, trying to save face as the rest of the table eyes her strangely. Horatio in particularly looks disgruntled by the news, which is reasonable considering the amount of flirting she's done with that brute the past few days.

The twinkling amusement in President Choice's eyes are enough to know she knew exactly what she was doing, and she offers a reassuring smile to Merrium. "My apologies, I wasn't aware that was a fact you were keeping secret."

She takes a long drink from her wine, while Merrium just seems completely lost, switching between looking around the rest of the table before finally looking at me with a look of helplessness that I don't think I've seen her ever wear. Doesn't feel so good to be the one getting called out, going from queen bee to a nobody real quick can be dizzying.

"Ah, and Ms. McKenna," she greets me warmly, but despite the kindness in her voice I can't help but frown at the way she greets me with my first name. Just like she did with the eight-year-old. "Your grandmother is quite an extraordinary woman, it's nice to meet one of her kin."

"The pleasure is all mine," I reply stiffly, and she just laughs in response, leaving me unsure whether to be offended or confused.

"You remind me of myself when I was younger," she chuckles, and I settle on being confused.

"Thank you," I say awkwardly, unsure how to properly even respond to that.

She just smiles wistfully at that though, shaking her head. "That wasn't a compliment," she says in tone that isn't even accusatory or malicious, but just factual. "Not yet, anyways."

"Well then," I quickly respond, attempting to put some sort of positive spin on this. If I can just get her to talk to me I can impress her, I know it. "I look forward to getting to mature as both a person and politician in the future."

"That is, if you do get that chance," she smiles knowingly, sipping from her drink again.

"I can guarantee you that I most definitely will," I smile, hoping that I sound more confident in that statement than I'm beginning to now feel.

That knowing smile stays firmly in place as she shakes her head again, a short chuckle rising from her. "Tsk-tsk, I can see that your grandmother has turned you into quite the politician. You've already mastered the art of promising that which you cannot guarantee."

This time I really don't know what to say, left completely speechless as she turns towards the girl from Ten and begins chatting with her about her fiance. I'm not even listening anymore though, those words ringing through my head. That couldn't have possibly gone any worse, and I can't for the life of me figure out why. Even when the other tributes showed blatant disrespect or poor mannerisms she complimented them, yet when I do everything I'm supposed to, she shoots me down at every turn.

"Seems like she's not a big fan of Four," Merrium whispers in my ear, and for once she isn't wearing her normal mask of indifference, still looking just as shell-shocked as I feel.

"It would appear so," I whisper back in a low voice, trying to ignore the quiver that seeps into it.

Merrium doesn't seem to notice the moment of weakness though, caught up in her own surprise. "Yeah," she shakes her head, leaning back into her chair. "I need a drink."

 **Ephraim Kress,** **17, District Twelve**

 **Twilight, Wednesday, May 30th**

 **Civic Center Park**

I've never seen so many people in one place. That's the second time I've said that to myself tonight. The crowd for the interviews seemed endless, but this. . . this is something else entirely. For blocks and blocks in any direction the entire park is filled with people all playing games, dancing to music, children jumping in bounce houses, and street performers showing off mind-blowing talents. Just beyond the park in any direction the streets are flooded with even more people, even the rooftops and balconies all packed to capacity. It's as if the entire world is here tonight, and with the energy in the air and the pounding music in my ears, it's hard not to believe it.

Half of the park is set up as a massive dance floor, with a live band playing songs that are hard not to want to dance along to, while the rest of the park is filled with tables catered to by servants, those giant inflatable bounce houses, and all sorts of carnival games that all look beyond foreign to me. It's all unlike anything I've ever seen before, and I can tell Peeka is thinking the same.

"There's so many lights," Peeka says breathlessly, slowly spinning around with a slack jaw. "I just wish it wasn't so loud," she says to me in a half-shout when she finally stops spinning and looks back at me.

"What, you don't like not being able to hear your own thoughts?" I shout back to her, breaking into laughter just as she throws a fit of giggles.

"What are we even supposed to do?" She asks, looking around in awe at the park.

It's a good question too, because there's just so much to do. After an hour of eating dinner and getting passive-aggressively roasted by the president of Panem, they set us free with the only instructions being to keep out of trouble, because they have trackers on us and trying to run away is useless. Other than that, we have until midnight to explore the city, play Games, dance, eat, meet Capitolites, or do whatever else we could possibly want with our last four hours of freedom. Most of the other tributes stuck with their mentors or escorts, but both Tristan and Kyle told us two to just enjoy ourselves and have a good time on our own. Whether they said that to give us space from them, or give them space from us, is still up for debate.

Looking around at the rest of the tributes, most of them look just as shell-shocked as Peeka and I, still stunned by the magnitude of it all. Hard not to be when there's suddenly more people around you then you even realized were alive in the entire world just a few weeks ago. The only ones who seem to have broken away from their shock are the ones who either have seen something like this before, or probably just couldn't care less. Levi is practically dragging his district partner over towards the dance floor, while the girl from Six is doing the same with her dad. Aside from those pairs though, everyone else looks just as lost as Peeka and I.

"Well," I suggest, 'it seems like all the cool kids are going to the dance floor, huh?"

Peeka's cheeks immediately flush red at that, her hand dropping away from mine without me even realizing we were ever holding hands in the first place. "I don't, I, Deke-"

"Don't worry about it," I quickly wave off, half-sorry for hitting a sore spot and making her uncomfortable, while half of me just grows more wary about her relationship with her fiance. She obviously loves him, there's no doubt there, and she's painted the guy as a saint, but there's something a bit off there. "I'll spare you my terrible dancing," I joke, attempting to lighten the mood back up.

It seems to work at least partially, Peeka looking relieved a smile creeps onto her lips. She looks back out at the crowd, and I glance out too, just in time to see a wave of people with cameras rapidly snapping pictures of everyone and everything here, the Capitolites looking more vulture than human as they quickly disperse and shove cameras into people's faces.

"So," I turn back to Peeka, deciding not to pay any mind to it. "Where to?"

"I, uh," she rubs at her exposed shoulders, seemingly wishing to cover herself up as she keeps her gaze on the cameramen. "I don't know."

That creeping feeling that something is off hits me again, even harder this time, but I shake it off. It's none of my business, and even if it was, I'd rather not spend my last four hours of fun worrying about something I have no clue about. Instead, I put on a big grin and take a step towards the conglomeration of games, walking backwards as I motion for Peeka to join me. "Well, I don't know about you, but whatever the heck _ski-ball_ is, it sounds pretty damn fun."

"Darn fun," she quietly corrects me, a hint of a smirk reappearing as she rubs her shoulders. "Potty mouth."

"It was a test," I laugh in response. "You passed, now come on, we got some balls to ski."

"Alright," she says reluctantly, following behind me at a comfortable distance and keeping her eyes peeled on the cameras constantly flashing all around us.

"You sure you don't want to dance?" I prod, if just to keep up some sort of conversation if anything. "This music is awesome."

"Oh," she says quietly, barely even audible over the booming bass. "I don't think Deke would want me to be dancing with another boy, I wouldn't. . . I couldn't-"

"I understand," I smile back at her reassuringly, not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable than she clearly already is. But the thing is, I don't understand. Peeka is the most sincere person I've ever met, how could anyone ever feel threatened that she'd do something malicious like cheat on them? She knows that we're just friends, I know it, everyone knows it considering both of us spent most of our interviews talking about our significant others back home- but she still seems paranoid about it all. I can't for the life of me figure out if she just trusts herself so little, or if it's Deke that's the one that needs to learn to lighten up and trust in her. There's not exactly an easy way to ask, either. _Hey, is your boyfriend an ass that doesn't trust you anywhere near other boys?_ Isn't exactly a casual conversation topic.

We get to the set of games, Peeka following behind me at a distance. There's already a group of people playing at most of the spots, and I can see most of them stop playing to look at Peeka and I as soon as we arrive, whispering excitedly to each other. Peeka doesn't even seem to mind the newfound attention, only caring about the cameras that still are snapping pictures of us from a distance.

"So, you wanna play?" I ask, trying to keep my smile in place, and not think too much of it. Maybe she's just camera shy, and will need some time to warm up to the crowd. Either way, I have four hours left of freedom, and I'll be damned if I don't make the best of it.

"Sure," she smiles in return, eyes flickering between the cameras and I, before she finally walks up next to me, eyeing the game bemusedly. "You know how it works, right?"

"No idea," I laugh, picking up one of the grey balls and tossing it up into the air. "Think we need to just throw it through the hole or something?"

"Umm," she giggles, looking around at the other people playing beside it. "I think rolling it might be better."

"I'll take your word for it," I chuckle, brightening up a bit as she continues to giggle along, seemingly forgetting about the cameras completely for a moment as she settles up next to me. She takes the ball from my hand, and rolls it up the ramp, the ball smacking against the backboard before rolling into the very bottom hole. "Hey, you got it in the hole, that's impressive, I think."

She giggles again at that, her whole body shaking with laughter. "Thanks, I hope."

"I'll do you one better," I wink, keeping my eyes on her as I give the ball a toss without giving a glance, feeling a slight pang of satisfaction as I hear the ball hit the backboard and roll in. "Easy."

She grins, marching up and grabbing another ball. "I think someone's oughta knock you down a peg," she says, and I'm taken back for a moment, the girl that I've known seemingly disappearing in a moment. Not that that's a bad thing, but it's still surprising.

Peeka gives the ball a hard toss, and as the ball slots directly into the top corner whole, she lets out a whoop, giggling madly as she flashes me finger guns. "Top that," she winks, and I just throw my hands up and shrug.

"You got me, I'm not beating that," I laugh, still a bit confused by the sudden personality switch but not minding it at all. This night just became a hell of a lot more fun.

"So then," she says, tipping her straw hat in my direction, her smile seemingly managing to grow even larger. "Where to next?"

"You won, you choose," I shrug, having no idea what I would even want to do.

She seems to ponder on this for a moment too, finger tapping on her chin as she surveys the area, my heart skipping for a minute when she glances at the horde of cameraman- but she doesn't even seem to notice them anymore. Suddenly she smiles brightly, looking back at me with a sparkle in her eyes. "I got it."

"Well then," I laugh. "Lead the way."

 **Sigma Krell, 9, District Five**

 **Twilight, Wednesday, May 30th**

 **Civic Center Park**

I don't know how Levi can be so brave. There's people all around us, taking pictures, whispering and pointing, even a few people coming up and asking Levi or Audra for their autographs, and through it all he seems like he isn't the littlest bit scared. Instead he just looks happy, like being around all these people is an amazing thing. Maybe for him it is.

He ran straight to the dance floor, dragging me behind him and only stopping when I finally dug in my heels just before we got there. For him this may be fun, but I don't want to go out there, I don't want all those people watching me. Not any more than they already are at least.

"C'mon Sig, it'll be fun, I promise. Nobody will care if you're good or not. Just pretend there's nobody else up there." Levi has been repeating those three lines over and over again to me, but I just keep on shaking my head, meekly sinking into my chair and ignoring the plates of food on the table.

"What's going on?" I hear Audra's voice, and turn around to see her and Aleksey walking over, Audra looking worried while Aleksey just looks nervous.

"Not much," Levi shrugs, "I guess Sig isn't in a dancing mood."

"Oh, that's fine," Audra waves off, smiling back at him. "You go out and dance, I know you want to, Aleksey and I will watch over her."

Levi glances over at me wearily. "You okay with that, Sig?"

I nod my head, and he looks over to the dance floor, before glancing back at Audra with a grin. "Well, I can't dance alone, and only one of you needs to stay with Sig, right?"

"I-" Audra coughs. "I don't know, I'm not really-"

"C'mon, it'll be fun," Levi says, and I roll my eyes at him for using the exact same phrase on her as he tried on me. "You're not scared of crowds, are you?" He asks genuinely.

Audra blushes a bit at that, shaking her head. "No, not really. . . no. I just, I don't really-"

"Hey," Levi cuts her off, laughing. "Trust me, nobodies going to care if you're bad at dancing when they're all focused at how I'm literally the worst dancer to ever exist."

"That's not-" she cuts herself off, giving a deep sigh. "Fine," she says reluctantly, but she can't hide the smile that creeps onto her lips as Levi takes her hand and leads her towards the dance floor.

Suddenly, Aleksey and I are left alone, and my escort awkwardly takes a seat next to me, nearly falling out of his chair as he takes his seat, his kilt getting caught on the chair. I can't help but let out a giggle as he fights to free himself, and he glances over to me, giving me a weary smile. "Aye, darn chairs are ma oldest enemy."

That just makes me giggle even harder, barely even holding myself in my own chair as he continues to pull his kilt until it finally gives way, only for him to slowly and dramatically tilt his chair back, waving his arms wildly as he collapses to the ground.

By now I'm laughing harder than I think I ever have before, having to hold onto my chair to keep myself up as Aleksey jumps up to his feet and quickly takes his seat. "Still canny believe they won't just put in some stools stead of some wee chairs."

I just keep on laughing, not sure whether his voice or him falling out of the chair was funnier. Well, probably the chair, but both are still funny.

"Aye, chairs are fine for wee little lads like yourself, but ma kilt and I could use some higher ground."

He looks at me for confirmation, and I shrug, still having a silly grin on my lips. The chairs are pretty comfy for me, but I wouldn't tell him that, since he seems to consider them his personal enemy.

"Aye, chairs and I are natural enemies, I'll patter with em any day," he tells me, looking down in disgust at the char he's now seated in. "But 'nyways," he says, breaking himself away from his rant and looking a bit more serious now- but still pretty silly. "How are ya holing up?"

I slink back into my chair a bit with that question, eyeing the crowd uneasily. For a while there I managed to forget where I was, but now it's all coming back at me full force. The flashing of cameras, the booming music, the thousands of people all chatting, whispering, pointing at me. . . .

"Aye, look!" I'm caught off guard as Aleksey suddenly points out into the crowd. When I follow his gaze I find myself looking at the boy from Two, the same one that Levi protected me from the very first day of training. "In awe at the size of this lad, absolute unit."

A part of me wants to be upset at him for surprising me like that, but that side quickly loses as I'm unable to hold in the laughter that comes. Something about his voice, and the words that come out of his mouth, just manage to keep on making me laugh. I can't even help it. He almost reminds me of Theta a bit, in that it just isn't possible to feel serious around him. That's a good thing though, I think.

"Audra 'n Levi are putting on a show up there, aye?" Aleksey says, nodding over towards the dance floor.

Glancing over there myself, I see Audra and Levi in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by a circle of Capitolites and even a few tributes and mentors, all of them clapping to the beat while the two take turns showing off their dance moves.

"Wee lads look pished up there," Aleksey laughs, "yer out yer nut Audra."

I don't even know what Aleksey just said, but I'm still laughing along with him anyways. Probably something about how silly the two look, which wouldn't at all be wrong. Levi is trying, and trying is a generous word for it, to do the worm, while Audra is doing some fancy footwork which isn't too bad, but she's waving her arms so crazily that I can't help but giggle at it.

"Aye, she looks like one of those inflatable tube men, yer mental Audra."

After the two of us have both calmed down from laughing, I look back over at him and notice something for the first time. My curiosity getting the best of me, I point at the strange looking clothe and wood combination.

"That's my bagpipe lassie," he responds quickly, hiding it under his chair as he explains. "Not sure fir wye ah brought it."

I smile, and point towards the band playing up on stage.

"Naw happenin'," he shakes his head, and suddenly he looks much less comfortable, his eyes scanning the crowd around him. "Naw here, ah dinnae like playin' in front of crowds."

Doing my best to reassure him, I smile at him warmly and nod my head. It's actually kind of nice to be around someone that understands that crowds can be scary. Levi is nice, and I'm happy he's my partner, but. . . he doesn't understand me, not really. He can't.

"Thanks lassie," he says in a meaningful voice, smiling back at me. "yer too kind."

I just shrug at that, only able to keep a straight face for a moment before bursting out into laughter with him. For a moment, the crowds and flashing cameras and bright lights and loud music and whispers don't matter anymore. It's just Aleksey and me, being silly and laughing and not caring about anything else. And that's not half bad.

 **Glory Fairfax, 10, District One Mentor**

 **Dusk,** **Wednesday, May 30th**

 **Snow Park**

I'm still not used to the crowds. At this point, I don't think I ever will be. Something inside of me just seems to freeze up every time that I'm surrounded by that many people, especially when those people are Capitolites. At least I'm not alone though, I don't know how I would have survived a party like this just one year ago. One year ago. It was that long ago that I was just a tribute, set to go into an arena I didn't even expect to get out of. Yet here I am, twenty-three, no, twenty-four kids dead, but I'm still standing here. And in just another few weeks, only one of the twenty-four kids here will still be alive. It's hard to enjoy the party knowing that, especially when most of the tributes don't seem to realize it themselves.

"You got that look again," I'm snapped out of my thoughts, Melody smiling over at me pitifully. "I know it's hard not to, but you just need to not think about it. Take things one day at a time, or else you'll lose your mind doing this."

"I know," I say softly.

"Good, then let's start by focusing on this game, it's pretty fun to watch."

I nod my head absently at that, trying to switch my focus away from my thoughts and just watch the game. Prestige was approached by a couple of soccer players after the dinner who were apparently from that team she was going to join, and they invited her to play a pickup game at a nearby field. Melody wanted to keep an eye on her for the night, and I didn't want to be left alone at the party, so I tagged along too. We're not the only people in the stands watching the game, but there's much less people here than there were back near the training center. Everyone here is also ignoring Melody and I too, which is a nice change of pace.

Kind of weird to spend your whole life as the quiet kid in the front row of the class that hardly anybody remembers the name of, and then suddenly have everybody know who you are overnight. I think that's just one thing about being a victor I'll never get used to. One of many things I'll never get used to, it seems like.

"You're doing it again," Melody sighs, giving me a knowing look.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it's. . ." Melody pauses for a moment, tripping over her words. "It's normal what you're thinking. You feel like you're personally responsible for them surviving, and you have no idea what you're even supposed to do. Trust me, I can relate to that feeling."

There's a commotion on the field as somebody scores a goal, some loud cheering rising from the stands near us. "If you have any questions, now would be the time to shoot, Glory."

I think on that for a moment, eyes absently watching Prestige as she runs by one of the older players. "So. . . Prestige is our tribute, and Hailey is Galavant's, so are we just supposed to hope that Hailey dies then? That just feels. . . bad."

"It's strange to get used to, and I wouldn't exactly say we're hoping that Hailey is going to die, but if it comes down to her or Prestige. . . well, Prestige is the kid we're responsible for getting home."

"I know, but it just can't help feeling guilty. I want Prestige to win and all, but. . . doesn't that mean that I'm hoping that the rest of them are going to die?"

"There's no easy answer to that," she sighs. "Regardless of what we do twenty-three kids are going to die, the only thing we can change is the one that gets to come out, and well-" she pauses for a moment, eyes glossing over as she watches the action on the field. "I think that Prestige has a case for deserving it more than anyone else does."

"They all deserve to live," I murmur softly, forcing my eyes shut as Gloria's last words ring through my ears.

 _You do deserve it, never forget that._

Melody places a hand on my shoulder. "They always do, but that's not in our control."

"Sometimes it is," I mutter with a bit more bitterness than I intended, still unable to shake that image of Gloria from my head. Those couple of seconds run on a loop through my head, just like they have been for the past year now. _You do deserve it, never forget that. Boom. The blood. The screaming that I barely recognize as coming from myself. The ladder descending down to me. My hands, splattered red as they freeze to the metal rings._

She gives my shoulder a tight squeeze, bringing me out of my daydream. "So we have to do the best with those few choices we do get then, don't we?"

"Yeah," I whisper.

"And right now our choice is between trying our absolute hardest to get Prestige home, or to not. Which one sounds better to you?"

"Trying our hardest," I sigh, understanding what she's saying, but still not fully believing in it. I know what she's saying makes sense, but my head is such a spinning mess still that sometimes logic isn't what seems right.

"Now if only that were as easy as it sounds," Melody says, seemingly not even noticing how unconvinced I sounded. "It can be. . . hard sometimes to help. But we're just going to have to do our best," she smiles, and I feel like she isn't even talking to me anymore.

"You've never mentored someone that isn't a volunteer before, have you?" I ask quietly.

She shakes her head. "You were the first District One tribute that was reaped since. . . well, me. And us two and Hailey, at least we've trained a bit. But Prestige, she's never even stepped foot in an academy, I didn't think that I'd ever have to mentor a kid like her."

Melody stops for a moment at that, shaking her head and turning over to me with a wistful smile. "Well, I should have been mentoring a kid like her last year, but we dropped the ball on that one."

"It's okay," I say in a whisper. "I turned out fine, I guess."

"I just hope that things turn out fine again," Melody quivers, biting down on her lip.

"I'm sure they will," I smile up at her. "She's got you watching out for her, right?"

Melody smiles at that, laughing lightly as she brushes some hair out of her eyes. "She's got both of us, and we're going to get her home."

"Yeah," I say, putting up a hollow smile for her sake as she gives my shoulder another squeeze.

"Just one more," she murmurs to herself, both of us attempting to turn our attention back to the game. Anything to distract us from tomorrow. "Just one more."

* * *

 **A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed our first half of the party! I had a blast writing these interactions, and hope that it was as fun to read as it was for me to write!**

 **In other news, there's some awesome fan art up on the blog courtesy of DarkHorseBlueSky that you guys should all check out! Also on the blog I've added a betting corner that will be updated throughout the rest of this story to give you an inside-look on the Capitol's opinion on the tributes!**

 **Next chapter we're going to be going over the second half of the party, as we visit Merrium, Hailey, Peeka, and Audra! In the meantime, check out the blog and be sure to vote on the new poll on my profile!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite POV this chapter?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Who's your early prediction for victor? Bias aside, who are you hoping is going to win it?**


	23. The Party: Found Tonight

"Found Tonight"

* * *

 **A/N: Second to last pre-games chapter hype! May have gone a bit OD with the length, but. . . there's some pretty important character developments here, so I wanted to spend some time to really flesh that out (and also just got wrapped up in things and lost track of how much I was writing). Hope you guys enjoy this last party chapter!**

* * *

 _~Even when the dark comes crashing through_

 _When you need a friend to carry you_

 _When you're broken on the ground_

 _You will be found~_

* * *

 **Merrium Solera, 19, District Four**

 **Night,** **Wednesday, May 30th**

 **Civic Center Park**

Capitolite men are just too easy. Not that I expected much out of them, but really, they have about as much brains as they do self-respect. All I have to do is take a seat at the bar, give a guy a wink, and just like that I have drinks coming my way, and without doubt sponsor money pouring in later. It's all too easy, and the nervous man sitting next to me now that claims to be some hotshot business executive is no exception. According to Dewey I ranked third in the post-interview popularity polls, but I intend on getting myself up to number one by the end of the night.

The night may have started off rocky, thanks to a president who decided that announcing my marriage to everyone would be fun for her, but it didn't put too much of a damper on things. Horatio is still a dumb mutt wrapped around my pinky, after all, it's not like he has actual morals that would stop him from chasing after me, regardless of who I have waiting for me back home. As for everyone else who heard that? Unfortunate that I won't be able to target any Gamemakers or politicians who might have some actual sway in the arena, but I'll settle for raking in sponsorship money instead. It's a much better strategy than anyone else here has so far anyways.

Most of the others are just running around trying to have fun, dancing and eating food, wasting time because they know that by tomorrow night they won't have any time left. A few of the others are networking with Capitolites, mostly just McKenna, Prestige, and Clara, but out of those only Clara is smart enough to actually be looking for sponsors. Prestige is just playing soccer and McKenna is still playing in her fantasy world where she's going to become some politician and is trying to "network" herself. And that girl thinks that I'm the ditzy one, please.

The man in front of me is still blabbering on about his business, for whatever reason thinking that would be the least bit interesting for a girl to hear about, but I play along anyways, nodding and smiling.

"Hey," I finally cut him off when I can't take it anymore, biting down on my lip as I bat my eyelashes at him. "What do you say you go get us some drinks?"

He quickly nods his head, stuttering out some sort of agreement before hustling down towards the barkeeper. The moment he's away I just roll my eyes and go back to sipping at the margarita I had another of the black suit business men buy me. I don't have too much time alone with my thoughts though before my _dearest friend_ decides to come join me at my table.

"McKenna, what do you know? You finally give up and being a politician and come to join me? Or are you just trying to bury your worries in a drink?" I ask sarcastically, forcing a hint of playfulness into my tone to keep it not too aggressive.

"I'm not drinking the night before the games," she responds in monotone, ignoring the shade I threw at her. "And you shouldn't either," she adds in.

I just shrug, taking another sip. "I have a strategy."

"So do I."

"Yeah, well, you mind letting me keep on working on mine then, or did you come here for a reason?"

She sits down at the stool next to me, glancing around for a moment before turning to me and talking in a low voice. "We need to talk about tomorrow."

"What about?" I ask, not bothering to lower my voice. Not yet anyways.

"Horatio is going off the deep end and we both know it, this alliance is nowhere near as strong as it should be, especially with all the outside threats we have this year."

"Normally I'd disagree, but," I take a moment to look around. "Considering what's happened so far today I'd be inclined to agree. I'm still not exactly scared of a fight with any of them, but you don't get a ten for nothing." I do my best to ignore the slight bitterness I have at the fact that my training score was only a nine, a full point behind an untrained girl four years younger than me.

"Unity is dead weight, and Horatio isn't exactly what I would call trustworthy. Our alliance is splintering, and it's most likely splintering before the finale. Meanwhile we have Hailey, Prestige, and a few outer decent outer district kids running around out there. The only way we survive this all is if we stick together."

"So, basically what you're saying is if Horatio snaps and tries to kill you that I should be on your side instead of his?"

"I'm saying you should take this seriously," she responds sharply. "Do you really trust your life with Horatio?"

I pause for a moment at that, taking my drink and sloshing it around in my hands. "It's the Hunger Games, I'm not exactly trusting anyone with my life."

"Unless you're suddenly going solo or refusing to sleep throughout the entire Games you better be ready to trust at least one person," she shoots back, and I have to give it to her there. Even though it isn't exactly normal for a Career alliance to end with someone's throat getting slit while asleep, it happens every once in a while. I wouldn't put it past Horatio to be the one to do it, either. McKenna on the other hand. . . she's smart, but also predictable. She might have it in her to backstab me, but she would telegraph it first and give me a chance to get her out first. She's also smart, and wouldn't backstab me until there's nobody else that's a major threat in the arena left. And I don't see Horatio, Hailey, Prestige, Frazier, Blaze, Clyde, and Ephraim all going down early.

"Alright, I'll bite. So what do you suggest?"

"Well, the ideal thing to do would be get a fifth member in our alliance, Unity is most likely dying early so I'm not worried about her, but I still don't like our odds one versus two against him if it comes down to it. It would be nice to have someone else on our side but it's too late for that."

"So, what isn't it too late for then?" I ask with an eye roll.

"Watch each other's backs and make sure that neither of us go down before Horatio does. Horatio will kill at least one of us in a fight but we can probably take him down two versus one. One on one though, neither of us stand a chance."

"So keep each other safe during fights, hope that Horatio gets injured, and if he does-"

"Then we finish the job," she finishes, looking relieved that I'm going along with her.

I take a long drink, finishing up the rest of my glass just as my current target gets back with a glass in each hand. He gives the two of us an odd look, and I give him a wink and hold up a finger, lowering my voice as I turn back to McKenna. "Well, it was a flattering talk, but I gotta get back to business."

"As do I," she says in that stiff political voice of hers. "Just keep that in mind, okay?"

"Oh, I will," I laugh, flashing her a wink.

She smiles in return before leaving me to go back to chatting with the higher ups. Probably thinking to herself that I'm completely on her side, which to be fair, she brought up some good points, and I certainly didn't lie to her in that conversation. It's a sound plan overall. Horatio is wrapped around my finger much tighter than McKenna realizes, but he's still not trustworthy enough to be left alive. But the moment that dumb brute is gone, McKenna suddenly becomes useless to me. While I won't underestimate them anymore, I'm still not scared of anyone else in the arena.

Let McKenna stab the dog in the back, and then return the favor to her.

"What was that about?" The man asks timidly, taking a seat and sliding the drink over to me.

I flash a smile and give a short laugh. "Oh, you'll find out."

McKenna may think that she's the one in control here, but she's in for a rude awakening. So are Horatio, Prestige, Hailey, and anybody else in this place that thinks they can stand in between me and victory. I didn't come all the way here to lose. I came here willing to play the game, and I always play to win.

 **Hailey Hills, 13, District One**

 **Night,** **Wednesday, May 30th**

 **Civic Center Park**

"This is so fucking boring."

"Nobody else here seems to think so."

"That's because everyone else here is fucking stupid."

"Well, aren't you just chipper tonight."

I glare at Galavant for that comment, but he just laughs it off and knocks back another shot of whiskey. I'm not sure if impressive is the word for it, but being able to take about eight shots in the past hour or two and still not show anything is something.

"Kiddo, you gotta lighten up a bit. It's a party, go dance or something, your allies are both enjoying themselves."

"I don't see you on the dance floor either," I mutter bitterly as I nurse my drink of water that Galavant refused to allow to be vodka instead.

"I'm a married man, with many Capitolite women who are both unaware of that fact and probably wouldn't even care if they did know. You on the other hand, are single the last time I checked." He takes another shot, and then lets out a loud laugh. "That is, unless anything has changed between you and-"

"Okay, fuck off," I interrupt him, hating how red my cheeks get. "And besides, that's a bullshit excuse and you know it, you could be doing plenty more besides sitting here on your ass at the bar for the last couple of hours."

"Yeah, but I'm having plenty of fun right here, unlike a certain little grouch."

"I could be having fun too," I murmur.

"Yeah, still not happening kiddo. Give me another seven drinks and I might get there though."

"Hurry up then, or at least help me break into the training center so I can do something that isn't a complete waste of time."

Galavant raises an eyebrow at me, sipping his drink. "Is there really nothing you'd rather be doing than training right now?"

"Not anything that's here," I sigh, leaning back into my chair and staring up at the night sky. "I just think this whole thing is bullshit."

He shrugs at that, finishing the rest of his drink. "Yeah," he coughs out, seeming to choke on his liquor for a second. "It is. But hey, better than being in the arena, there's certainly worse places to be."

"There always are."

"Not always."

I glance over at him, expecting something more out of him, but instead he just stares ahead, intently focused on the drink he's pouring out for himself.

"You're shitfaced."

"But I'm still right," he shrugs.

"I'm going into a deathmatch in just a few hours with twenty-three other kids, a giant fucking dude who got a twelve wants to murder me, Prestige still thinks I'm a fucking asshole and I agree with her, and I'm being forced to come celebrate all of that shit at a party with my drunk as fuck mentor trying to convince me to go dance with a bunch of Capitolite assholes who are the reason for every single one of those problems. How could that be any worse again?"

I try my hardest to stay calm throughout my rant, but I can feel my face heating up by the end as my fists clench by my sides, while Galavant just gives me an odd look. We both sit in an awkward silence for a moment before Galavant cuts through it by bursting into a fit of laughter.

"Kid, I like your fire, it's good for you, but you gotta stop feeling so goddamn bad for yourself. Whining about how your little girlfriend doesn't like you back, or how _unfair_ all of it is just makes you sound like a little kid."

"Well maybe it is a little fucking _unfair_ ," I say, and I immediately cringe at how soft my voice comes out, my voice cracking on _unfair._ So, maybe I am just a little kid who's whining about how unfair it is. I think I have that fucking right after all that's happened. My life has just been one endless stream of shit in an ocean of bullshit. But hey, now that my alcoholic mentor who doesn't know two shits about my life has told me to stop whining maybe I'll realize that the whole world is actually an amazing place, and I just need to have the right attitude and everything will turn out great!

Galavant seems to realize that the conversation has suddenly become much more serious, sobering up as he leans in with a tired expression. "Hailey, look, I know that you've been dealt a bad hand. I'm not gonna sit here and say that it's all fine and dandy, because it isn't. It's shit, we both know that. But it could be a hell of a lot worse."

"How?" I scoff.

He raises an eyebrow at me. "Well, you could have not been reaped, but then been chosen for the Games by a girl who decided picking her crush to go into a deathmatch with her was a good idea."

"Okay, fuck off."

"You asked," he shrugs nonchalantly.

"It was rhetorical," I mutter.

He ignores me though, knocking back another shot and nodding his head behind me. "Speaking of the devil, here she comes, you sure you don't want to make any grand proclamations tonight, I'm sure the Capitol would really love it, would make sponsorship a lot easier for me too."

"Seriously, go fuck yourself," I tell him tiredly, regretting not just lying to him about my reasons for picking her more and more with every passing second. "The joke wasn't funny the first thousand times you said it, so can you just fucking stop already."

"I personally think it's hilarious," he laughs, but when I send a harsh glare his way he stops.

As soon as his laughter cuts off, I hear Prestige's in its place, and I turn around just in time to see her walking by, surrounded by a group of Capitolites, all of them joking around and smiling. Prestige looks happier than I've ever seen her, a warm smile in her face as she chats with a girl with pink hair and what looks like an owl hat pulled tightly over her head.

I hate the jealous feeling in my gut I get when I see the way Prestige looks at the girl, her cheeks blushing while she shyly refuses to look her in the eyes. It just brings back those same butterflies in my stomach that I've tried so hard to get rid of over the past week, those feelings that I would do anything to just burn up and get rid of, instead of letting it continue to eat away at me from the inside. I fucking hate that feeling so much, and even more than that, I hate knowing that she'll never feel that way when she looks at me. That at worst she hates me with every bit of her being, and at best she just feels sorry for my sad excuse of a life. I fucking hate it so much, and I fucking hate that the only reason I'm having to deal with these feelings is because I'm a fucking idiot.

"Well, if you ever want to win back her love you could always just dye your hair pink and move to the Capitol-"

Before he finishes his sentence I'm out of chair, feebly half-hitting and half-shoving him as I try my hardest to force back the tears that threaten to well up. "Just _fuck off_ already," I choke out in a sob, and the moment I get it out I turn and sit back down in my chair, refusing to look anywhere in his direction.

We sit like that for a few minutes as I fight back the tears with every inch of willpower I have. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry, I'm not letting a stupid fucking girl make me feel so fucking helpless that I break down just because she doesn't feel that way about me. Only little fucking kids cry, and I'm not a fucking kid.

"Hailey," he finally says in a soft voice, letting out a heavy sigh.

"I don't wanna fucking hear it," I wobbly force out.

"You need to hear it though. Look, I'm sorry, I went too far, I know. I'm not. . . I'm not used to this whole thing. I know that things suck for you right now, and I'm sorry, I really am."

"I just wish I could stop fucking feeling like this," I choke out, still just barely holding in those tears as I desperately wipe them away before anyone sees it. "I fucking hate it, and I hate myself for not being able to even control how I feel. I'm acting like a fucking little kid, and I hate it. So. Fucking. Much."

"It's shitty," Galavant agrees. "But do you remember what I told you on the first night, in the train?" I lift my head up a little bit, turning around to face him with damp eyes, weakly shaking my head.

"That pain, while it hurts like hell right now, it makes you strong. Emotion fuels determination, and no emotion fuels it better than pain, and you have a lot of that in you. That fire in you that I said I saw in you, it doesn't come from nothing. It comes from the worst, darkest, rawest pain imaginable, and I recognized it in you because it's that same pain that was burning in me when I was in your shoes. It sucks, and it hurts, and you don't deserve to have it in you- but whether or not you deserve it doesn't matter because you have it. But that pain is what's going to make you strong, it's the thing that's going to get you out of that arena alive." He looks down at the ground, a hollow smile as his voice grows hoarse. "And being alive and in pain is a hell of a lot better than being dead."

"Is it?" I ask weakly.

"That's a question I've had to ask myself a lot," he sighs. "And it's not one that I can answer for you. But I. . . I know that no matter how much pain I'm in, I'd never let the people I love feel pain because of me. As long as they're alive, I can take all the pain in the world. They're worth it."

My thoughts go back to home, to what I have waiting for me. The people that have loved me. My dad, who decided that I _wasn't_ worth the pain. My mom, who never even loved me in the first place. Tracey, who I thought was my only friend in this shitty world, but I guess she never really gave two shits about me either. Joel. . . my fist wraps around the note in my pocket that I received just this morning.

"What if there's nobody?" I ask quietly, too tired anymore to even care that I sound as broken as I feel

He quirks a smiles at that, placing a hand on my shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "There'll always be somebody. I promise."

I look down at the ground, not even bothering to wipe away the tears that stream down my cheek anymore. Why should I even bother? What difference does it make? I'm just a stupid kid, and no amount of pretending will make me be anything more. Why even bother fighting?

"You can't promise that," I mutter.

"I don't promise much kiddo," he swallows, offering a weak smile. "But this is one thing that I can."

I glance up at that, blinking back tears. "Alright," I say in a whisper.

"I'm proud of you kiddo," he says, giving my shoulder another squeeze. "No matter what happens, just know that, alright?"

"Okay," I reply softly, sucking in a deep breath and quickly wiping away the tears that threaten to drop past my cheek and hit the floor.

He hits me lightly on the shoulder and flashes a grin. "You're gonna give them hell for me, okay?

I actually manage to laugh at that a bit, nodding my head as I suck in a deep breath. "Yeah," I wobble out, forcing a smile onto my lips. "I'm gonna give 'em hell."

 **Picaboo "Peeka" Benner, 19, District Ten**

 **Night,** **Wednesday, May 30th**

 **Snow Tower**

I realized something tonight. It hit me in a single moment, a single thought, and the moment it entered my mind I couldn't let it go. It's stayed stuck to me, an unshakable fact that nothing can convince me otherwise. It was like a revelation, but instead of feeling like a weight had been lifted, instead it just felt like I was finally aware that the weight was even there.

I've never been treated right. My whole life, I've been walked all over by everyone else, and I've just let it happen. My parents, my friends, even Deke. . . no, _especially_ Deke, they all just use me, because they know I'm too weak to stand up to them. The worst part of it all is that if any of them were here right now, I know that I still wouldn't have it in me to stand up for myself. I would fall right back into my normal self, closing my eyes and trying to convince myself that my life is perfect. That Deke is still my perfect fiance who has never done wrong by me. That every time he gets mad it's _my_ fault.

My head is a mess, and it's all that I can do to just push it all away, and lose myself for just tonight. No second guessing, no nervousness, no wondering if this is what anyone else wants me to do. It takes all my will power to just ignore those thoughts, and for once in my life let things be about me. Well, and Ephraim too, but that's different. He's the first person in my life that actually cares about what _I_ want. I don't have to just do whatever will make him happy to avoid any sort of confrontation. He asks me what _I_ want to do, and even though I've only known him for a few days it feels like he cares about me in a way that nobody else does. It isn't a controlling sort of caring, or a possessive love, it's just. . . he seems like he genuinely wants me to be happy.

Who knows, maybe I'm just mixing things up and seeing things that aren't there. Maybe he doesn't really care about me, maybe he just sees me as an ally and nothing more, I don't know. I can at least pretend though. Just for tonight.

"This view really is something, huh?" Ephraim's voice interrupts my thoughts, loud and boisterous yet somehow gentle.

"Yeah, it is," I respond softly, cheeks rested against my propped up palms as I gaze over the railing. The entire city is in view below us, fifty stories in the air and towering over even the tallest buildings. The people below are just specks of dust, slowly shifting as their voices are just quiet echoes.

"I'll have to thank Tristan for the suggestion, I don't know why nobody else is up here now," he says, taking in the view himself, his hair wildly flowing back in the wind

"I don't mind," I shrug meekly.

"Yeah," he replies, propping himself up and pushing away from the railing. "Me neither. I can still even hear the music a little bit."

"It's nice," I say, following suite and walking towards the center of the rooftop with him, nothing but a couple of clean white benches over the hardwood floors. "I wonder what they use a place like this for."

Ephraim lets out a short laugh. "If they can throw a party like this then on a Wednesday night who knows what an average day looks like for them."

We both fall quiet at that, the unspoken fact that we never will get to know weighing down on us. Or well, at least one of us never will. At least one of us will never get to see this city again, never get to peer over the railing and gaze down at the lights shining down below. One of us won't ever get to experience any of this ever again.

The cheery music suddenly comes to an abrupt stop, a slow and soft song starting in its place, and for a moment it seems like the entire world seems to slow down. Ephraim looks over at me, the worry dropping from his eyes as a casual smile forms on his lips.

I smile back, not even knowing why but suddenly not feeling any of that nagging worry. Without a word I walk over to the railing again, Ephraim soundlessly joining me as the two of us look down at the park, the dancing couples all just dots slowly swaying back and forth to the rhythm.

"You know, I've always wanted to waltz with a boy," I admit, a wistful smile slipping onto my lips. "Deke promised that we would at our wedding for the first time, and that it would be romantic." I look down at my feet, the smile dropping as reality sets in.

"I always figured I would with Alita too," Ephraim responds softly, and I glance up at him to see his eyes misty as he stares down at the streets, that soft smile still in place. "Looks like we both might've missed our chance there, huh?"

"Maybe not," I say quietly, not even sure if I mean it, but just needing something to keep my mind from wandering to a dark place.

"Maybe not," he echoes even more softly. He suddenly looks up at me, that casual grin back in place as he takes two steps back and extends his hand towards me. "Picaboo Benner, in case the chance doesn't ever come again, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" He deepens his voice with his proclamation, a sarcastically serious look in place.

A giggle escapes from me, and I find myself immediately reaching out towards him, before my hand freezes in place, just inches from his.

"I shouldn't, I-"

"Peeka," he says in a voice that melts right through me. "If Deke really loves you, then he trusts you. And. . . and even if he doesn't, you need to trust yourself. You can't live in constant fear about what someone else thinks your intentions are. I know what my intentions are, I just want to dance with a friend because odds are neither of us will ever get the chance to go again." He glances over his shoulder towards the opening in the middle of the rooftop. "Don't make me try to do the waltz by myself, eh?"

I'm left in silence at that, my head swirling and racing as my heart pounds against my chest. My mind is a mess, my thoughts being blocked out by emotions so muddled and mixed up that I can't even make sense of what is what. My heart is pounding so loud I can't even hear my own thoughts. Above everything else though, I see Ephraim in front of me, hand extended as he looks over at me in an almost pleading way. I feel helpless, but not in the way that I've felt before. It's not the type of feeling of helplessness when Deke gets hits me, and I'm certain that he's never going to love me again. It's. . . something different. Something warmer. Something better.

"Okay," I find myself saying, and it feels like I'm just a ghost watching myself as my hand reaches out to take Ephraim's, the warmth of his hand seeming to spread over to me, my entire body seeming to glow with warmth. He looks half-relieved and half-surprised as he smiles back at me, and the moment he does I find myself smiling too, unable to help myself. Earlier today it felt like I finally realized that there's been a weight on my shoulders my entire life.

Now it feels like it's lifted.

The song barely lasts two minutes, going by in a blink of the eye as the two of us sway back and forth, awkwardly stepping on each other's feet and pulling each other in opposite directions, but neither of us even cared. I always imagined my first waltz being with Deke, the two of us flawlessly moving as one in each other's arms, a picture perfect moment that I would hold onto forever. It was a moment I had dreamed of my entire life, but. . . this was so much more real. I feel a nagging shred of guilt in the back of my mind, but this time I push it away with ease. No more guilt.

"Wow, we're terrible," Ephraim laughs when it's over, and that bright and cheery music takes over again.

"I think we did pretty good," I smile.

"I guess so," he smiles back, and when he does that warm feeling is back again, even stronger than before. "So, any other things that you want to check off the bucket list?" He laughs.

"Yeah," I say, his eyes seeming to light up the entire night sky when I gaze into them. "I can think of a few."

 **Audra Lee, 16, District Five Mentor**

 **Night,** **Wednesday, May 30th**

 **Civic Center Park**

Please let this night just never end. I know that it's going to, and I know that there's not much time left until it's all over, but it's all I can do but hope that somehow, someway it just doesn't end. That tomorrow never comes. That I don't have to say goodbye.

I knew that mentoring wouldn't be easy. I knew that I was going to get attached to my tributes, and that odds were they weren't going to survive. But this is so much worse than I could have imagined. I don't think I could imagine anything worse than this.

"Hey, hey, hey, check me out," Levi laughs, standing up on his chair as he holds a grape in his hand. He tosses it into the air, catching it in his mouth and looking extremely proud about the fact. "Please, hold your applause, I'm amazing, I know."

"You sure are," I laugh, shaking my head.

He jumps off of the chair and plops down into the seat beside me, kicking his feet up on the table. "Man, what a night," he sighs. "I'll give it to the Capitol, they know how to throw a party. That band is _awesome,_ and whoever decided karaoke would be a good idea is a genius."

"Yeah, it's been pretty fun," I say quietly, flashing a smile.

"I'm glad Sig has been having fun too. I know she probably wouldn't have had fun dancing with us or anything."

"It's been nice seeing Aleksey open up with her too," I smile, trying to search through the crowd to find them now. Aleksey isn't exactly hard to spot in a crowd, but right now I can't seem to find either of them. Maybe they got tired of the loud crowd and decided to go somewhere quieter. They wouldn't be the only ones. "I wasn't expecting either of them to enjoy tonight." I pause for a moment, then shrug sheepishly. "Even I wasn't expecting to enjoy tonight."

"Well I'm glad that you did," he chuckles. "You got pretty wild on the dance floor there."

"Learned from the best," I giggle. "That charlie brown was something else."

"Hey, _Dancing's not a crime_ , right?"

"Oh my gosh that karaoke was the greatest thing of my life," I laugh. "You're _singing_ was actually something."

"Oh, it was something?" He teases.

"Definitely something," I affirm, trying and failing to keep a straight face as he pretends to be offended. "Dancing may not be a crime but you're singing should be."

"Wow," he laughs, holding his chest as he mocks pain. "You can't just call me out like that."

"Not sorry," I tease, sticking out my tongue at him.

The two of us both break out into laughter at that, neither of us able to even talk anymore as I'm gasping for breath, my cheeks flushing red. I finally manage to get a handle on myself just as Levi does, and our eyes both lock for a moment as we quiet down, and as it does I feel my heart skip a beat. My cheeks manage to flush even redder than before, and I quickly avert my eyes back down to the floor.

I feel guilty immediately, shoving away all of those feelings and leaving myself feeling stupid. Now's not the time to be feeling things like that, not now and not ever, especially not him.

"I'm sorry," I breathe out, rubbing the back of my neck as I meekly look back at him.

He looks confused, but shrugs anyways and shows me a smile. "No worries, whatever it is."

I lean back into my seat, staring up at the night sky and letting out a heavy sigh. "I hate this, you know."

"You mean, _this_?" He asks, seeming even more confused than before.

"No, I mean yes, I mean-" I cut myself off, closing my eyes and taking in a deep breath. "I hate being a victor. I hate mentoring. I hate it _so much._ "

"Why?" He asks, still seemingly trying to keep a cheery attitude. "Not because you hate me, right?" He jokes.

I look back down to Levi, staring him in the eye as my own begin to water up. "Because I don't hate you," I choke out in a whisper.

"Oh," he says, and now it's his turn to avert his eyes.

"I just wish I didn't ever get reaped," I mutter bitterly. "I just want to be a normal kid again. I'm tired of all of this, and I hate that I'm going to be stuck doing it alone for the rest of my life because I'm lousy at it and I'll never do good enough to keep the people who are relying on me safe. I'm going to come here every single year for the rest of my life and watch two kids _die_ because I couldn't help them." By now my teeth are chattering, my whole body shaking as I force myself to hold in the tears that are fighting against me. _I won't cry. I won't let them see me cry._

"You can't blame yourself," he tells me in a soft voice that's dripping with so much sincerity and kindness that it makes my heart hurt and only manages to make me feel even worse on the inside.

"Who else do I blame then!?" I ask with more anger than I meant, and I feel slightly guilty as Levi lurches back, but don't have it in me to apologize. Not now. Not tonight.

"Well," he says carefully, scratching the back of his neck. "In my case I'd say blame genetics? Or maybe airborne illness? Tainted water supply? I'm not actually sure how I got this thing to be honest. . . ." he trails off, looking up to me with a meek smile, seemingly hoping to get a laugh out of me.

It doesn't work.

"And what about Sigma?" I ask, tears starting to spill, my voice getting loud enough to attract nearby attention but at this point I don't even have it in me to care. "Who do you blame there?"

"She might not die," he says softly, but even he sounds unsure. "I'll keep her safe, I promise."

"And what about when you die? Then what? She's going to _die_ and there's nothing I can even do to help her. She's going to die scared, and alone, and it's all because I can't help her. Just like Armie did, and Fox, a-and James, and Alice, and _every single_ other kid that's going to die because I let them down! Who do you blame then, huh?!"

I can feel eyes on me from all over, and it almost seems as if the entire world has gone quiet, stopping to stare. My cheeks immediately burn up red as I sulk back into my chair, suddenly wishing I could just disappear. "Caleb was wrong," I murmur quietly, to myself more than anyone else. "I'm not ready to do this alone. I'm just a scared little kid, and that's all I'll ever be."

There's a long silence after that. I continue to sink into my chair, and eventually everyone else goes away, going back to focus on something other than the sulking little girl who's quietly sobbing to herself.

"You know," Levi finally says, suddenly looking different. He's not smiling, or laughing, and there isn't a hint of happiness in his voice. He sounds almost. . . timid. I didn't think he could ever be anything but his loud, happy self. "I used to be really scared of death," he admits, a slight quiver in his voice. "It would keep me up at night, knowing that I was going to die, and I was going to die soon. That no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I tried to run or fight or complained about how unfair it was. . . nothing could change it. It's terrifying, it. . . it still is, honestly. No matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I-I'm not ready to die." His voice cuts off at that, and he takes in a deep gulp of air, his hands shaking as he grasps at his wrists to attempt to stop it.

"But you know what I realized?" He asks, his voice steeling up as he looks me in the eye, those bright blue eyes of his shimmering in the moonlight. "I'm no different from anyone else. We're all gonna die, right? My life is just. . . a bit shorter than most other people's. But that's okay, ya know? I mean, there's two kids in here that aren't even ten, and at least one of them are gonna die. I'm seventeen years old, who knows, I might even turn eighteen in that arena, and I've got two amazing parents, the best group of friends I could ever ask for, and I've gotten to do things that most people could only dream of. How _stupid_ would it be for _me_ to complain about how life is unfair?"

He stops there, seeming to want to say something more, but holding himself off. He doesn't have to say it though, I already know.

"I know it's stupid for me to complain," I say softly, the tears no longer falling but my cheeks still damp as I dab at them with my sleeve. "I know that I'm luckier than the other twenty-three kids I went into that arena with. . . but just because it could be worse doesn't mean that it doesn't still suck."

"You could look at it like that," he shrugs. "Or you could just. . . not." He smiles at that, an easy smile that seems to not have a care in the world. "It's up to you to decide, right?"

That stops me for a moment, freezing me up and leaving me unsure what to say in response. Luckily, I don't have to come up with someone to say, a loud bell chiming, echoing throughout the streets. The night is over. Just like I knew it was going to, no matter how much I hoped that it would just keep on going on and on forever. That I'd never have to say goodbye. That I wouldn't have to watch Levi and Sigma go into that arena. That I wouldn't have to watch them both die, knowing that there was nothing I could do to save them. Knowing that maybe if they had someone else to help them, that maybe, just maybe one of them could have gotten out. Both of their lives are just tiny strands, holding tight, but about to break.

It's up to me.

* * *

 **A/N: _I promised some fun party chapters what is wrong with me whyyy._ Anyways,I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter of unrequited love. The party is over, the night is over, and the Games are about to begin. There's one final pre-games chapter with Glory and Apollo next chapter, and then it's the Games. This was honestly probably one of if not my favorite chapter I've ever written, I just felt really good about my writing this time around and hopefully it shows.**

 **Make sure to vote on the poll on my profile! I'm no longer as sure as I was before about my placements and your guys' opinion might sway things for me!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite POV?**

 **Trivia(1 point): You're a Capitolite at this party. Who do you go try to meet?**


	24. The Last Night: Battle Scars

"Battle Scars"

* * *

 **A/N: Really short chapter before the pre-launch next chapter(originally was a part of the bloodbath chapter but I decided to separate it and make it 2 chapters), checking in on our favorite SMOL victor.**

* * *

 _~These battle scars, don't look like they're fading_

 _Don't look like they're ever going away_

 _They ain't never gonna change~_

* * *

 **Glory Fairfax, 10, District One Mentor**

 **Late Night, Thursday** **, May 31st**

 **District One Floor, The Training Center**

It's impossible to get any sleep tonight. How am I supposed to just go to bed and crash after tonight? How can I possibly relax and just let myself fall asleep, knowing what's coming tomorrow? I try to think back and remember how I did it last year, but for the life of me I can't remember how I managed to fall asleep. How are Hailey and Prestige supposed to go to sleep now? After everything that happened tonight, knowing that it's all about to be taken away from them in an instant.

I promised myself that no matter what I would just lay in bed and force myself to sleep, but just a half hour in and I already know there's no way that's happening. It feels like something is pulling me out of my bed, nagging at me and willing me to not just _sit here._ There has to be _something_ that I can be doing. Galavant already headed out to the mentor room, and Melody is probably getting some work done too. There's got to be some way that I can help, right?

That question is in my mind as I roll out of bed in my pajamas, quickly putting on some of the fuzzy slippers that fill my closet, and being careful not to make a noise, slip through the door. The hallway is almost eerily quiet, the only sound being the soft murmuring of voices coming from the living room. Tip-toeing through the halls, I peer around the corner.

Melody's back is to me, but I can hear her reassuring voice as she holds a quietly sobbing Prestige in her arms. I can't hear what Melody is saying, but when Prestige speaks up through choked out sobs I can hear her loud and clear.

"I don't wanna go." Her voice is wobbly and cracked, and in a moment that feeling of helplessness is back inside of me. This is the person who's counting on me to keep them alive. If she dies it's my fault. She's crying, and terrified, and I don't even know how I'm supposed to help.

I look away from the two, back to the wall as I slink down to the ground. My hands cover my eyes as I will myself to think positive thoughts, but no matter how hard I try: I can't think of any. She's going to go into the Hunger Games tomorrow, and I can't even help her. What good am I as a victor if I don't even know how I'm supposed to help the one person in the entire world who's counting on me. Melody is here this year, but what about next year when I don't have her with me, and I'm left mentoring someone by myself? What am I going to say to my tribute when she's crying and begging to not have to go into the Games? How am I supposed to help them?

A chill runs over my body, and in an instant I'm back up on my feet, needing to start moving again. I'm not even sure where my feet are taking me, just moving on autopilot as I quickly walk through the halls, not caring about being silent anymore and just needing to get away from here. I find myself pushing through the side door, my feet pounding against the steps as I run up the stairs, faster and faster and faster, anything to keep all of the bad thoughts out of my head. The memories of what I've done. The worries of what I'm going to do. The failure that I am right now.

That last thought is harder to push away than the other ones, and I only find myself moving faster, faster up the stairs, running away from all of my problems. I don't slow down as I go up floor after floor, past the second, and third, and seventh, and twelfth, all the way up to the top. When I finally reach the small door, marked roof access, my feet stop moving.

I don't remember a lot from last year. I do my best to forget that week in the Capitol, but this is one memory that I'll never be able to shake. A regret I'll never get rid of.

A reminder of the monster I am.

My hands are shaking, and I quickly shove open the door, willing away the memories that force their way into my head. _The door swinging open. The scream that I'm not sure is mine or her's. The knife in my hand. The knife in his forehead. His eyes, grainy and hurt and confused. The canons echoing off, one after the other. The blood on my hands that I'll never scrub off._

Tears are forming up in my eyes as I step out onto the rooftop, but the moment that I do, my tears stop flowing, my entire body coming to a complete standstill. The girl on the rooftop spins around quickly, leaping back at the sudden sound, her light brown eyes fearfully scanning over me for a second. In a moment the fear disappears, replaced by timidness as she offers a weak smile.

The door slams shut behind me, and I jump in place, but my attention is quickly back on the girl in front of me. The girl that _killed my brother._

I narrow my tear-filled eyes at her, unsure whether I want to cry or scream at her, or just turn and run back down the stairs. Keep on running away from everything, until my legs can't go anymore.

"Hi," she says meekly. "I'm, uh, Audra. Or, well, you, uh, probably knew that. . . right." She stutters out her words, and is biting on her lip, seeming like she wants to say more but holding it in.

I can't find it in myself to so much as say hello back, a nagging part of my mind reminding me of Melody's words. She would want me to forgive her for what she did, maybe even make friends with her. That's what Melody would do, what Gal would do, what any good person would do. But I can't. I don't want to. She killed my brother, just like I killed Nova. We're both monsters, and I'm not going to pretend that either of us are any better than that.

"I, um" she says, and I can feel my fists clenching by my sides as she speaks, not wanting to hear what she has to say. Words don't mean anything.

She never gets the chance to finish though, the door swinging open, and her eyes going from confusion to fear in a moment, and just as my mouth opens to ask what's going on, the answer comes in a flash.

The dart hits Audra in the neck, and in an instant her eyes roll back, and her body crumples to the floor. An all encompassing fear overwhelms my body, my mind racing as I quickly spin around to see who's behind me. I never get to see.

A sharp pain hits my neck, before it's quickly replaced by an overwhelming numbness that spreads to every inch of my body. I try to open my mouth to say something, to ask what's happening, but I can't. My body sways as the wind blows against my back, my eyelids going heavy as my world fades to black.

* * *

 **A/N: _Forgive me Dreamer._**


	25. Pre-Launch

_The Morning Of_

 _~.~_

 _Hailey Hills was not easily scared. There were only three times in her life that Hailey Hills was so gut-wrenchingly terrified that even she would admit that she was scared._

 _The first time was when she walked into her home after school, and found her dad hanging by the ceiling._

 _The second time was two weeks later, when she ran away from home and slept in the streets, feeling for the first time in her life utterly and helplessly alone._

 _The third time was now, sitting in the launch room, alone, the timer quickly ticking away. But Hailey Hills had gotten into fights before, and she wasn't scared of getting into another. What scared her more than anything else did wasn't the thought of death, or having to kill. They would come to haunt her, but they didn't yet._

 _Hailey Hills was scared of what would happen if she ran into the girl who was only in the Games because of her. She was terrified of the idea of having to fight that girl, and she wasn't sure which scared her more: having to kill her, or being unable to._

 _~.~_

 _Prestige Freeman was used to be being alone. She was alone at home, she was alone at school, she was alone out on the field. Even when others were around her, she still felt alone. They would never understand her, or truly care for her, and Prestige had the misfortune of being able to see this._

 _So when Prestige Freeman sat alone in her launch room, she shouldn't have minded being alone. It shouldn't have scared her._

 _But it did._

 _~.~_

 _Cyril Lovelace was used to being overlooked. What he wasn't used to was being loved. When his escort had showed him exactly that, Cyril wasn't sure what to think. He never expected someone to keep him company at a party that terrified him to be at. He never would have guessed someone would show up to wish him luck before going off to launch._

 _He certainly would never expect them to say that they believed that he could win. That Cyril Lovelace would win because despite what everyone said, he wasn't weaker than Alt Lovelace._

 _He was stronger._

 _~.~_

 _Merrium Solera was one of the few tributes who wasn't scared, or anxious, or even the slightest bit worried as she sat in her launch room. Merrium Solera was excited. She was excited because she truly felt that the Games were hers for the taking. She wasn't the only one who thought this, and all but one of them would fall in the next few weeks, but this wasn't on her mind._

 _What was on Merrium Solera's mind wasn't strategy, or nervousness, or any normal sort of thought. The one thing on her mind was victory, because in her eyes, she was already out of the arena._

 _Technically true, perhaps._

 _~.~_

 _McKenna Bay was thinking. She was always thinking, and now would certainly be no exception. Her mind was on the black jumpsuit she was dressed in, and the different possibilities it could mean about her environment. She thought about the bloodbath, and what she would do in certain scenarios. Who she could outrun, who she could out-dual, what weapons she was most proficient in, and what weapons her enemies would most likely target._

 _McKenna Bay believed she had thought of every possibility. She thought that she was ready._

 _She wasn't._

 _~.~_

 _Sigma Krell was no stranger to the quiet, or loneliness, or fear, or pain, or death. She had seen more in her short life than most would ever hope to see in a lifetime, and she would see even more pain and death, and feel more fear and loneliness before her lifetime was over._

 _But for now Sigma Krell wasn't focused on those feelings. Aleksey had wiped them away while he was with her, but when he was gone, and she was left alone, Sigma Krell didn't feel anything._

 _She stood in the launch room alone, and more than anything else, Sigma Krell felt numb._

 _That feeling wouldn't last._

 _~.~_

 _Levi Ezra was, surprisingly enough, not happy. Nor was he excited, or nervous, or scared. Levi Ezra was confused. He was confused that he was even still alive, but he wouldn't let himself stay confused for long._

 _While Levi Ezra knew he wasn't leaving the arena alive, and was sure that he would never get to see his parents, or hold Sky in his arms ever again- he hoped more than anything that he could at least make his life worth something. There were people counting on Levi Ezra, more than he even knew._

 _He didn't want to let them down, but he wasn't sure if he was willing to do what it took to keep her safe. Levi Ezra did not want to become a murderer, but he couldn't help but feel like he might as well be if he let the girl relying on him die on his watch._

 _He wasn't sure which of those thoughts scared him more._

 _~.~_

 _Rain Kaniff was often called fearless, and for an eight-year-old who had been through as much as she had, she certainly seemed it. But Rain Kaniff was scared now, or at the very least was nervous about what was ahead of her._

 _She had watched the Hunger Games. She had seen her friend die, sobbing and pleading to not have to go, and now as she stood ready to launch into the arena, it was that moment that was in Rain Kaniff's thoughts._

 _But she had her dad with her, and Rain Kaniff knew that as long as he was alive, no harm would come to her._

 _She didn't dare to think about what happens when he's gone._

 _~.~_

 _Clyde Kaniff was terrified. He was terrified about the bloodbath that was just moments away, but not because of fear of his own death, that was something that had stopped scaring him long ago._

 _Clyde Kaniff was scared for his daughter. He was scared because he knew that she wouldn't be, and he was scared because he wasn't sure if he could take another failure in his life. He had already caused so much pain and suffering, and he wouldn't survive any more heartbreak._

 _There was only one person Clyde Kaniff cared about, and everyone else was just standing in the way._

 _~.~_

 _Picaboo Benner was conflicted. The thought of death terrified her, and that was just the thought of it. Seeing it, causing it, experiencing it, those were all things that left her body frozen with fear._

 _So she didn't think of those things. Instead, Picaboo Benner focused on the one thing in her life that made her feel safe. She thought about the person that would be out there in the bloodshed who she needed to find._

 _Picaboo Benner wasn't used to having nobody to rely on, she wasn't used to being alone in the world. She had spent her entire life being passed around, relying on one person after the other._

 _Soon she would learn._

 _~.~_

 _Blaze Colton was angry as he always was, but he was also focused. He was determined to win, and he felt in his heart that he needed to win more than anyone else did. He felt that the person he had waiting for him back home was inherently more important than the people here with him._

 _Blaze Colton didn't second guess himself. He didn't hesitate. He didn't apologize. He didn't forgive._

 _Blaze Colton would do whatever it took._

 _~.~_

 _Ephraim Kress thought he was used to seeing death, because he had seen it before. He thought that because he had experienced loss before, and heartbreak that still hurt him to this day, that he was ready for whatever was ahead of him._

 _He wasn't._

 _He never would be._

* * *

 **A/N: Bloodbath in four days, on the one year anniversary of this story.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Predictions for the bloodbath/arena?**


	26. The Bloodbath

"Soldiers"

* * *

 _~I stand here right beside you_

 _Tonight we're fighting for our lives_

 _Let me hear your battle cry_

 _Your battle cry~_

* * *

 **Levi Ezra, 17, District Five**

My world is dark for a moment. I was warned there would be no air in the tube and yet it still catches me off guard, and I find myself gasping for breath in the dark as my tube slowly slides up. The ground above me opens up, and I brace myself for the burst of bright lights that never comes. Instead only more darkness shines down from above, just the tiniest shred of light being visible from far above, towering trees casting darkness.

By the time I'm fully raised up into the arena, my eyes are just beginning to adjust to the grim darkness. The entire area is dark, and the thick mist just makes the visibility even worse. All I can make out is that I'm surrounded by trees, and oddly enough- there's no cornucopia in sight. In fact, there's only one other tribute in sight, as my eyes adjust to see Sigma standing frozen in place on a podium directly in front of me, a table with a small bag in between us

I break away from my momentary confusion to wave over at Sigma and offer a reassuring smile, but my thoughts are still wandering. Where is everyone else? Where's the cornucopia? Is everyone right past the fog? Did they make some sort of mistake? I wait for an announcer to tell us something, but even as the seconds tick by, nothing happens. There's no announcement, no clearing of the mist, no anything.

Even Sigma seems to be confused, breaking away from her stunned expression to give me a bemused look. After about thirty seconds have passed and still nothing has happened, I shrug and without giving it another thought, step off of my podium and onto the grass.

I land on a twig, and there's a loud snap as I drop down that gets a brief scream out of Sigma and even causes me to jolt, before both of us realize what it really was and calm down.

"Alright, this is strange," I mutter to myself, offering a smile over to Sigma. "You can come off, Sig, let's check out this bag, huh?"

She quickly nods her head at me, cautiously stepping off before hustling over to meet me at the table. As soon as she's off the podium both of our tubes fall back into the ground, leaving no trace of it ever being there.

Neither of us are paying attention to that though, instead both of our attention being on the single bag in front of us, jet black like the jumpsuits we've been put into. Sigma and I exchange a look before I hesitantly unzip it, my confusion only growing stronger when I see what's inside of it.

There's no weapons, knives, water, food, or anything else that's usually inside of a bag in the Hunger Games. Instead, there's just a bottle of pills. My curiosity is overwhelming me now as I take it out and examine it, unable to find any sort of ingredients list or instructions aside from:

 _Ashla Prototype_

 _Take ONE tablet for desired effect._

"And what exactly is the desired effect?" I find myself asking to nobody in particular, Sigma shrugging in response.

This whole thing is just messing with my head, my expectations for today completely flipped on its head. Now instead of being in a massive fight with twenty-three other kids I'm sitting here with Sigma with nothing but a bottle of pills left for us to get? With some cryptic, crazy sci-fi sounding name?

"What do you think Sig, should we go for it?" I ask her.

She holds out her hands in response, and I hand her the bottle, which she takes time to look at herself. She doesn't bother trying to read it, instead twisting it open and peering inside. She turns back to me and shrugs, handing the bottle over to me.

Inside is just two tiny pills, but that's not the strangest part. The pills are glowing, one of them a bright blue and the other a dark red, seemingly radiating off energy and color. I get a strange feeling in my gut just looking at them, just further adding to the confusion of this entire thing.

 _BOOM!_

I jump into the air, nearly dropping the pill bottle from my hands. Without any other thought I immediately spin around to check in on Sigma, letting out a sigh of relief that yes, she's still standing there, her face paling in reaction to the canon.

The canon that means somebody just died. The realization of where we are suddenly sets in, and I swallow a lump in my throat, screwing the cap back onto the pills and tossing them in the bag, slinging it over my shoulder.

Time to move.

 **Prestige Freeman, 15, District One**

The first thing I notice once I'm lifted into the arena is how dark things are. The second thing I notice is that there's no cornucopia, only a small table with two metal cylinders on it. The third thing I notice is that there's only one other person out here with me.

 _Her._

Hailey seems to come to all three realizations at the same time as me, our eyes locking across the open field. My eyes narrow as hers rapidly fluctuate between confusion and fear. Both of our eyes move between each other to the table directly between us, roughly forty yards. There's no announcer, no countdown, no anything but the two of us.

She's the first one to step off her podium. There's no hesitation in her as she dashes towards the table, and I'm not far behind, sprinting as fast as my legs can carry me. Hailey is fast, but not as fast as I am.

I'm easily the first one to make it to the table, quickly grabbing one of the two metal tubes, and charging towards Hailey, both of us stopping just a foot from each other. Hailey eyes me wearily, gaze darting between the table and I.

"Don't even think about it," I say, waving the tube in her direction, not entirely sure what it's supposed to do but positive that it must be something dangerous. I quickly fiddle with it, finding a big red button on the side and hitting it.

It takes all my willpower to hold onto the weapon when the blindingly bright blue light shoots out from one end, Hailey falling backwards and landing on her ass as she just narrowly avoid being accidentally hit by the glowing beam. Both of us are frozen in confusion for a moment, and I tentatively test it out against the ground, eyes widening as it slices straight through the dirt with zero resistance.

Doing my best to ignore all the questions I have, I hold up the saber threateningly towards Hailey, nearly accidentally hitting her again when I'm thrown off by how light it is, the beam of energy seeming to be completely weightless. Again though I put that question away, focusing on the question that's been eating away at me for the last week now. The question that I _need_ some sort of answer to, to know why all of this is happening.

"Why did you pick me?" I ask her, doing my best to sound intimidating but unable to hide the way my voice cracks at the question.

She just stares blankly back at me, before averting her eyes down to the ground.

"Fucking why?" I ask, louder this time, taking another step towards her, my anger reaching its boiling point as I stare down at the girl below me who's ruined my life.

"I don't fucking know!" She yells back, her voice broken up and weak, and tears threatening to spill.

"That's fucking bullshit, yes you fucking do!" I scream at her, slashing the saber at the ground just inches away from her head. "Tell me why, you fucking asshole!" Tears are welling up in my eyes now too, and I quickly take a moment to wipe them away, not letting myself do that. Not now, I'm not fucking crying. I'm mad. I'm mad that this girl ruined my life and won't even give me a straight answer _why_.

She stares up at me with tired eyes that fall away from me, refusing to look at me as she nervously clenches and unclenches her fists. "I. . . I didn't want to go in here with an academy kid, I fucking hate them so much and they hate me too so I wasn't about to do that."

"Why _me_?" I reiterate, hating how my voice seems to break up and shake as I stutter the words out.

She looks down at her palms for a moment, before letting out a sigh. "Because," she says in a weak whisper. "I didn't want to pick someone who hated me, and. . . well, I just wanted to go in with somebody who was actually. . . nice to me, I guess." She looks back up at me, her light brown eyes glossy with tears that refuse to spill. "You were the only one I could think of."

If this was supposed to answer my question, all it did was replace them with a dozen more. "We met _one_ time for like _ten_ minutes, how the hell did you even remember me?" I ask exasperatedly.

Her cheeks flush red at that, her eyes immediately falling to the ground.

"Seriously?" I sigh, unsure whether to be angry, confused, or stupefied. "You fucking sent me into a death match with you because you had a _crush_ on me? Are you kidding?"

She murmurs something inaudible in response, still refusing to look me in the eyes.

The saber shakes in my hands, just a few inches away from her neck. Just one quick stab and she's gone, just like that. Just one movement and the girl who's fucked up my entire life is dead, and I'm one step closer to getting my life back together.

 _BOOM!_

The sound of the canon startles me, but I quickly shove that away, turning back to Hailey. She's sitting up now, her back off the ground but still not looking to be going anywhere, her eyes tear-filled as she continues to gaze down at her open palms.

The shaking in my hand is getting stronger now, my mind willing myself to go through with it, but my body unwilling to cooperate.

"Fuck!" I finally exclaim, dropping the saber away from her and mashing the button on it, the glowing light retracting into the tube. "Next time I see you, I'll fucking kill you, so you better just fuck off and get yourself killed."

"I'll try," she murmurs in response, looking up to me with weak eyes that seem to just radiate with pain and regret.

It pauses me for a moment, but I quickly break away, turning from her and forcing myself to move forward.

"You better."

 **Cyril Lovelace, 11, District Three**

We've been standing here for a few minutes now, and I'm still not sure what we're supposed to do. There's no bloodbath, so that's good I guess, but there hasn't been any announcement, or countdown, or any tributes aside from Malcolm right across from me. I guess he's not the worst person to be with, but still, he's been glaring at me for the entire time, and I know that I can't outrun him. He seems like a nice guy, I don't think he would murder me. . . right?

There's some sort of gun in between us, but not like anything that we saw in training. It's a sleek white tube with a glowing blue cylinder partly exposed in the inside, three black extensions reaching out like claws. It almost looks alive, like some sort of metallic bug, but it hasn't moved at all from it's spot on the table, and it doesn't look like it's going to either.

 _BOOM!_

The sound of a canon snaps me out of my thoughts, and seems to stir Malcolm too. He spares one last glare at me, then glances over to the gun on the table and steps off his podium, sprinting towards it. I cover my ears and close my eyes, ready for the explosion to surely go off after somebody steps off their plate early, but it never comes.

By the time I open my eyes back up Malcolm is already at the table, fiddling with the gun that's the size of his entire arm and seeming to try to figure out how to work it. _Probably not smart to wait around for him to._

I turn away from him and run off into the woods, hoping that if I can just slip into the dark, foggy woods then he won't be able to find me. _The dark, foggy woods that probably hide all sorts of mutts and other tributes._

That thought sends me sliding to a halt, my mind yelling at me to run but my legs frozen in place, the fear of what lies ahead keeping me from going any further.

"Hey, asshole!"

I spin around, and see Malcolm holding the gun up in the air with both hands, aimed directly at me. He pulls the trigger, and I let out a whimper, hugging onto my shoulders and waiting for whatever's about to come.

A blue circle spews out from the gun, rapidly flying through the air until it lands on the ground just a few feet from me. When it hits the ground it doesn't explode though. Instead, the blue circle seems to attach to the ground, the grassy floor being replaced by a circle of blue light, spinning around rapidly on its edges.

Malcolm looks just as confused as I feel, looking over the gun for a moment as I continue to stare at the blue circle, unsure whether I should run or not. Malcolm fires off again, seemingly on accident this time, an orange circle this time flying through the air, high into the air until it finally hits a tree forty or so feet into the air. The moment it makes contact with the tree, the inside of the blue circle changes, the blue insides replaced by what looks like. . . us? I can see myself in the circle now, just a small dot low on the ground, surrounded by woods.

When I look up at the orange circle I see that it doesn't have a solid orange inside either, instead being replaced by an image of the sky. I put my hand over the blue circle, and suddenly I can see my hand in the orange circle. My heart skips a beat, and despite the fear still inside of me my curiosity overwhelms me, and I carefully put my hand into the blue circle.

My hand seems to go inside of the moving image without any resistance, and the image I see when I look up into the air just about manages to knock me unconscious. I can see myself in the circle, leaned over the edge and reaching in, but even more terrifyingly: I see my hand. Not just an image, but _my hand_ floating in the air just outside of the circle.

I can't stop the scream that rises from me as I quickly yank my hand back, hyperventilating as I look up to Malcolm, who looks just as shocked. His surprise doesn't last long though, before his eyes suddenly widen, and he again quickly fiddles with the gun, aiming it at me.

Looking down at the blue circle on the ground, the puzzle instantly connects in my head, and suddenly that all-encompassing fear is back, and I turn away and begin sprinting away. I can hear the sound of the gun firing off, but I just keep on sprinting, sprinting, sprinting. . . until suddenly I realize that my feet aren't on the ground anymore.

I'm falling.

My back is to the ground, the orange portal above me, the blue portal that just swallowed me up still moving through the forest. I barely even have time to register what's going on, my body lurching towards the ground. I'm only able to twist myself off of my back and onto my side before I collide with the ground, directly onto a patch of shrubbery.

 _BOOM!_

My eyes widen, and for a split-second I wonder if I'm dead, before a sharp pain in my side unlike anything I've ever felt before reminds me that I'm definitely still alive. I'm surrounded by broken shrubs and bushes, and it feels like my entire hip is shattered, but I ignore the pain, keeping my body still even when it tries desperately to squirm and scream.

Malcolm thinks I'm dead. He has to. That canon went off right when I hit the ground, unless I just imagined it. If I just stay still he'll go away. I just have to ignore the pain that's worse than anything else I've ever felt before. Ignore how much my head is spinning, trying to figure out what just happened, how I just seemed to teleport from the ground into the sky.

I just have to wait.

 **Picaboo Benner, 17, District Ten**

 _BOOM!_

That's the second canon to go off now. The second person that's died. I still have no idea what to do. Cedric ahead of me is eyeing the ground and the table in between us, seemingly building up the courage to run for it. Meanwhile I'm trying to figure out what to do. My plan was to find Ephraim, and to find him and get out of the bloodbath. How am I supposed to do that when Ephraim is nowhere to be seen? When nobody but Cedric is in sight.

A part of me wants to turn and run, get out of here before Cedric decides to move first. Just run and run and hope that eventually I find Ephraim. But those two canons freeze me up every time I think of it. What if that's what those canons are from? Two people who decided to step off their plate. Maybe this is just a test, they say never to go until the sixty seconds is up after all. . . .

Cedric steps off his plate. He does it hesitantly, with one foot carefully coming down to the ground, but once he's on the grass, and there's no explosion that follows it, all that hesitance is gone.

 _BOOM!_

Immediately he sprints towards the table, and I find myself locked into place, frozen with fear as he rapidly searches through the bag, pulling out a syringe and looking confused as he slams it down on the table.

 _BOOM!_

The sound of the fourth canon is finally what it takes to get me to move, and I hop off of my podium, but the moment I do Cedric turns towards me, instantly leaving the bag behind as he runs towards me.

He's fast, much faster than I am, and my heart sinks as I know right away I can't outrun him. M-maybe I can just talk to him, he wouldn't kill me, right? Right? I'm not even convincing myself as he comes charging at me, so instead of trying to talk my way out of this, I duck away from him as he wildly throws a fist at where I was standing just a moment ago. I'm still not totally sure what I'm doing, but I'm running towards the table, hoping I can find something that can get me out of here.

 _If only there was a teleporter just sitting at the bloodbath._

All that's at the table though is just the bag, completely empty, and a syringe filled with a blood red substance. Not very useful. Cedric has recovered, and is storming over towards me now, and it's all I can do to hide behind the table, using it is a buffer between us, like a kid playing tag with a friend. But if he catches me I'll be in worse shape than just losing a game.

 _BOOM!_

 _Like that._

I actually manage to continue dodging away from him for a minute, before finally he lets out a rage-induced roar, hopping over the small table and jumping at me. I try to move out of the way but he slams directly into me, tackling me to the ground with him on top of me.

I struggle against his grip, desperate to get back on my feet, but I'm helpless against him, unable to even move an inch. He brings down his fist viciously onto my cheek, and I let out a cry of pain as I can feel a crack in my jaw, the pain that shoots through my system so much worse than anything I've ever felt before.

Tears are streaming down my cheeks as he raises his fist again, and I feebly push against him, trying desperately to keep him back, anything to stop this. I slap out wildly and my fingernail actually manages to connect with his cheek, drawing the faintest drop of blood as it slices against him.

The whole world seems to pause for a moment, his fist frozen in the air just inches from me, before that fire lights back up in him, even more fierce this time as he grabs me by the hair, roughly tossing me into the table as I let out another scream. I choke back a sob as my head collides with the metal table, wanting this to just be over with. Everything hurts so much, please, please, just let me go.

"Please," I croak out, but this just seems to enrage him more as he kicks me roughly in the side, my whole body nearly falling over to the ground if not for him grabbing me and holding me up.

"My dad didn't get the chance to beg for his life when he died in your fields," he spits out.

Before I can get a chance to respond he's grabbed the syringe from the table and jammed it into the side of my neck, a sharp pain that overwhelms the dull pain of my head and jaw, my whole body seeming to come to a standstill. Everything seems to pause for a moment, a split-second of quiet in the eye of the hurricane.

And then it hits me.

The pain that comes at me is unlike anything I ever even thought possible, a tidal wave of suffering, my whole body on fire, my insides being engulfed by a flame, my skin boiling, my whole body being eaten away at.

I want to scream, but I can't even do that, too frozen in shock to even react as Cedric screams something at me that I'm no longer able to hear. My body is shaking, seizing up, my body paralyzed. He hits me in the face again, and again, and again, and again, and again until my vision is black and I'm not even here anymore.

I'm back home, it's dark, and Deke stands above me, screaming at me, his face red as he accuses me of being a cheater. He tells me I'm a horrible person, a liar who's broken his trust. He hits me, and he hits me again, and he keeps on hitting me, no amount of tears, or apologies, or screaming stopping him.

And then nothing. For a moment, everything seems to freeze, the burning pain freezes, the yelling goes silent, and for just an instant, there's peace.

Then, it's all back. The rage, the pain, the broken trust, all of it comes bursting out of me, and I'm screaming now, willing all of it out of me, pushing away everything.

My eyes flash open, and Cedric only has a moment to look confused before claws extend from my knuckles, a bursting pain as they come out of my skin, and enter into his chest. I'm still screaming, screaming and screaming, willing the pain away, willing everything to just _get out._

And then everything goes still.

 _BOOM!_

The claws that come from me are still buried in his chest, a horrifying pain coming from my knuckles as the massive metallic claws slice their way through my skin. Nothing like the pain when he stuck that syringe in my neck though. That isn't possible.

Extremely carefully, and with tears welling up at my eyes, I attempt to push them back into my skin, unsure if that's even the right thing to do. Pushing or pulling them doesn't get them to budge though. As a last ditch effort, I just. . . try to pull them back in, and let out a surprised gasp as they slide back into my skin. That's not even the strangest thing, though. My skin seems to heal itself in an instant, the open wounds closing in just seconds.

I'm suddenly aware that the pain in my jaw is gone, and I carefully run my hand along my cheek, suddenly unable to find any cuts or bruises. Just blood. So much blood.

My attention is pulled away from my cheek as I remember the body lying in front of me. The dead body. The person that I _murdered._ His eyes are empty as they blankly stare through me accusingly. I can hear his voice in my head.

 _You killed me, just like your parents killed my father. You're an even bigger monster than they are._

"No," I murmur to myself, shaking my head. "No, no, no, no." I wrap myself up in a hug, scurrying away from the dead boy, needing to get distance from him. Blood still stains my hands, my face, my shirt, my hair, everything. I'm a murderer. I'm a _monster._

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, tears rolling down my cheeks as I desperately attempt to breathe in, choking on each breath.

But there's nobody to forgive me. Nobody to assure me that I'm not a monster. Nobody to hold me and tell me it's all going to be okay.

I'm all alone.

 **Hailey Hills, 13, District One**

Six canons. Six tributes are dead, one fourth of the competition out in just a few minutes. Barely anything compared to most years, but this year is different. That means that six people killed their district partner. _Nearly seven._

I shake that thought away. _Just ignore it, Hailey. She let you live because she felt bad for your sorry ass, be grateful and stop being such a whiny little baby._

There's still seventeen tributes out there, and she's just one of them. Odds are I won't see her again, someone else will kill her, and I won't have to worry about it. Maybe I'll find Levi in here, maybe I won't. . . who knows. It doesn't matter anyways, one person is coming out of here alive, and it's going to be me. There's no time to worry about anyone else.

My thoughts are cut off by the scream that pierces through the air, my feet stopping in their tracks.

 _Prestige._

In an instant I've dropped all thoughts of survival, running on raw adrenaline as I sprint towards the scream, dipping through the foliage, leaping over logs, dodging between trees. Another scream cuts through the air, this one shorter than the other, and I break into a clearing just in time to spot the boy from Eleven leaned over Prestige, hands wrapped around her neck as she feebly struggles against his grip.

Without a thought for my own well-being I'm dashing towards him, jumping onto his back and wrapping my arms around his neck as I swing his body backward. He lands directly on top of me, and I lose my breath just as he does, the two of us rolling opposite direction, him rubbing at his throat while I shakily make my way up to two feet. Prestige is still on the ground, her eyes shut, her chest slowly rising and falling.

"Over here fucko," I spit at him, holding up my fists at him and doing my best to hide the fear that builds up in me. Just like a fight at the academy, big dumb bastard trying to kill me, nothing knew. _Except this guy has actually killed before._

"Heh," he chuckles, slowly climbing to his feet. "Adorable. We'll see how long that lasts."

"You're the creep that killed all those girls, huh?" I ask him shakily, psyching myself up. It's him or me, no, it's him or both me _and_ Prestige.

He smiles at that, a creepy ass smile that sends a shiver down my spine. "Oh I did more than that. In fact," he laughs, taking a step towards me. "Most of 'em were about your age, now that I think of it."

"Fucking try me you sick fuck," I spit back, standing my ground.

"Cute," he laughs, though his smile quickly drops as he charges at me.

The fuck runs like a dog, his head down as he bulldozes his way at me, like he fucking expects me to just stand in place. I play the part for a moment, pretending to be frozen in place, before at the last second dipping out of the way, leaving a foot behind to trip him up.

The giant ass eats shit, getting a face full of dirt as he smacks into the ground.

"Cute," I quip, flashing him a smile as he quickly scrambles back to his feet, rage showing in his eyes.

"No more games, you're dead you bitch," he snarls.

"Okay, no more games," I respond, flashing a brief smile before glaring him down.

He charges at me again, this time at least not being such a dumbass that he puts his head down, but he's still like a fucking train, sprinting forward at me and expecting me to just take it. This time I feint a sidestep to the right, before quickly dipping to the left, swinging around him and kicking him in the back as he flies past, sending him back into the ground.

Just keep pissing off the bull, until he does something. _Or until I can get a fucking weapon and just end this already._

Surprisingly enough, when he gets up this time he doesn't charge back at me, instead taking slow steps at me as he raises his fists in the air, a serious look dominating his features.

"Had enough yet, fucker?" I taunt him, hopping on my toes as I circle him, allowing him to close the gap.

He doesn't respond though, taking one more step forward and sending a wild punch at my head. While he's a dumbass, he still packs some strength, and I'm glad that I manage to duck out of the way in time, quickly sending a kick at his groin before he can recover. He lets out a croak, but manages to stay on his feet still, even throwing out a blind punch that manages to connect with my jaw, sending me flying backwards.

He collapses to his knees just as I fall to the ground, rubbing at my jaw for a moment before hopping up to my feet. There'll be plenty of time to complain about my cheek later, now isn't the time.

"Hailey."

I pause at the voice that calls out my name, quickly spinning around to see Prestige slowly crawling to her knees, her voice hoarse as she weakly clutches the saber in her hands, before shakily throwing it in my direction. The saber hits the ground and rolls to a stop just a few feet from me, and I quickly scramble over to it on all fours, just in time as the boy gets onto his feet, stumbling over towards me.

He's gaining on me fast, and fear takes over me for a moment as I quickly fiddle with the weapon in my hand, finding the switch just as he gets in reaching distance. I flicker on the blade, swiftly kicking at his groin again as he lunges for me, and as he collapses to his knees, I swing the blade at his neck, the red blade slicing through his skin like butter.

 _BOOM!_

His eyes go blank, but only for a moment before his entire head rolls off of his shoulders, landing with a silent thud on the forest floor. The world seems to stop spinning for a moment, my breath catching as I stare at the weapon in my hand, the red blade simmering in approval before I quickly switch it off and toss it to the ground, scrambling to my feet.

"Fuck, man," I squeak out breathlessly. "I just decapitated the fuck out of that guy, didn't I?"

"Y-yeah," Prestige stutters out, stumbling to her feet as she limps over towards me, clutching her side and grimacing as she walks. As soon as she gets to my side and looks down at the body laying at my feet her face pales, and she turns away from the scene. "Holy shit," she breathes out.

"This is pretty fucked, huh?" I ask, trying to let out a laugh, but I can't help not sounding very amused.

"Just a bit," she responds, taking in a shaky breath of air.

I give the dead boy at my feet one last look, resisting the sudden urge to kick his head and instead walking over to Prestige's side, hands stuck in my pocket. I'm not gonna mourn that asshole, he deserves it. He deserved it, so it's no big deal. I just gave him what he deserved. Yeah.

"You alright?" I ask her with shallow breath.

"Not fucking at all," she replies.

"Yeah," is all I can find in me to say. "Don't suppose you're still gonna kill me, then?"

She looks over at me, weary eyes that are brimming with tears. "No, I don't think so."

I scratch at the back of my neck, looking down at the ground as I turn away from her. "I guess I should go now-"

"No!" She yells, and I jump in place as she puts a hand on my shoulder, spinning around to face her. "I-I mean, y-you shouldn't go," she says timidly, eyes darting around the forest. "Th-that guy, he was invisible, h-he suddenly just appeared right in front of me, I-" she cuts off, a loud sob escaping from her as she fights back tears.

"It-It's okay, we're safe now," I tell her awkwardly, unsure what to do but wanting more than anything to help her.

She looks up at me with tear-brimmed eyes, and shakes her head. "No we're not."

* * *

 **A/N: So, a lot to unpack here. First of all, I'm so excited to be in the Games and just want to take a moment to thank all of you for your continued support. The fact that we're one year in and yet all of my submitters are still around and reading is just. . . wow. Thank you all so much.**

 **Second of all: yeah, this arena is wild. Yes District One has lightsabers. Yes District Three has portal guns. Yes Peeka has wolverine claws. Yes District Five had ? Every district has a prototype weapon, and trust me, I am fully aware that these are not actually scientifically possible. I have some scientific explanations in-verse for how these are possible, but yeah, it's sort of fantasy, but it's fun so w/e.**

 **So if you were around for Role Model the lack of bloodbath may not surprise you, but otherwise this may be a bit weird for you lol. So, for those of you keeping track there were 7 total canons (dreamer you prophet wtf) this chapter, 2 of which we saw on screen. I'm only doing eulogies/confirmed placements at the end of every day once the deaths are confirmed in the sky, so you guys will just have to wait to see who died ;)**

 **Finally: I like for y'all to not be totally lost in the arena, so I'm publishing some things to help you guys out. On my profile is a list of alliances/their supplies and needs, and on my blog will be a consistently updated arena map.**

 **Hope that you guys enjoyed our first Games chapter, and I'll see y'all next chapter with a POV from Tali Choice, Head Gamemaker.**

 **Trivia(1 point): Thoughts on the Arena? The prototype weapons? The lack of a real bloodbath?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite POV?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Any predictions about/hopes for what else went on off-screen?**


	27. The World Turned Upside Down

"The World Turned Upside Down"

* * *

 **Tali Choice, 31, Head Gamemaker**

This is it. An entire year of preparation has lead to this moment, where all the long, sleepless nights will become worth it. Millions of dollars and thousands of hours of work have gone into this, and now the entire nation will get to see my dreams come to life. The dreams that were just silly fantasies a few months ago are now a reality. Just imagining the reactions of shock the country is about to have brings a smile to my face. I was never a huge fan of the Games from a moral ground, but I can't deny the appeal of it. The ability to design my own arena from scratch is a challenge that no other job can offer, and gives me freedom to explore scientific fantasies that would otherwise be just that: fantasies.

Around the Gamemaker room congratulations are going around, exhausted yet relieved Gamemakers slapping each other on the backs, chatting and laughing as the countdown begins. Normally this would be the most stressful moment of the Games, with all hands on station, but thanks to my ideas this year the "bloodbath" will be completely hands off.

"This is quite the interesting idea you have here, sister," Delilah murmurs casually, watching as the broadcast gives an aerial view of the arena, which is nothing special by itself. Just a small, dark forest with minimal sunlight and high density fog. The weapons are what make it special. "Not having a bloodbath is. . . intriguing."

"What's the fun in having all of these weapons if only the Careers get to use any of them? It would be over in a day. Besides, most of these tributes hate each other, there'll be plenty of bloodshed to go around."

"And how do you plan on capturing all this action on screen at once?"

"No countdown or announcement. Tributes will come to the realization that there's no mines at different times, so not all twelve districts will get off their podiums at once."

"Interesting," she hums.

On screen the arena tour is over now, and I hold in a breath as the tributes podiums rise, soaking it all in. _I've done it_.

Just as the first tribute's head pokes out into the arena, the television cuts to static. I feel a quick pang of annoyance at my lousy television, until I turn over to the big screen in the Gamemakers room to see it reading the same static.

"What the-" I murmur, but before I have time to question what's going on, I get an answer.

The static is replaced by a grainy video, a bearded man in his 40s peering into the camera with an unreadable expression. Down below there's a commotion as the techs rabidly attempt to get back control of the broadcast, but I'm paying that no mind, Delilah similarly closing the gap with the television, a bemused look in place.

"Greetings. By now I'm sure that you've gotten control of your precious broadcast back and I am only speaking to those whom this may concern," he says in an unreadable tone. And sure enough, just as he says that the techs announce they've regained control and are now streaming the broadcast of the bloodbath. But the bloodbath is the last thing on my mind now, because as the man takes a step back from the camera, he reveals what's behind him.

 _"Audra Lee, Glory Fairfax, Garen Nox. . . Connie Thompson."_ My heart sinks at that last name, and manages to drop even further when the camera zooms back to reveal all four of them, kneeling on the ground, heavily armed men surrounding them on any side.

"Fuck," I breathe out, unsure what else to say. Three of our victors. . . a capitol citizen. No, more than just a capitol citizen, _Coira's own daughter._

 _"If you wish for any of these prisoners to be returned to you, you will listen to our demands and you will listen very carefully,"_ the man states, squatting down and looking the camera in the eye. Behind him Garen is staring daggers at him, looking ready to get up and fight while the other three just look scared out of their minds and confused.

 _"For too long District Thirteen has suffered under the iron grip of the Capitol. For too long! The Capitol will withdraw all troops from District Thirteen, and will return all stolen hovercrafts and weaponry within the next ten days. If they do not. . ."_ he glances back at the prisoners behind him and smirks at the camera. _"There will be dire circumstances."_

"Jesus Christ," I murmur, running a hand through my hair and stepping backward.

 _"And,"_ the man adds, brandishing a pistol and standing back up at full height. _"In case the Capitol thinks these threats are empty, and believes that there will be any negations to our terms. . . allow me to prove otherwise."_

 _"Fuck you,"_ Garen spits at him, the eldest of the quartet glaring at the man. _"You wanna kill anybody, you kill me you sack of shit."_

The man stoops down to eye-level of Garen, seeming to pause for a moment as he stares down at his weapon, before shrugging. _"Thank you for volunteering."_

 _BOOM!_

"Fucking hell," I shakily choke out, peeling my eyes away from the mess on screen, blocking out the collective screams of the other three girls. Delilah stares steel-eyed into the screen, the only sign of her showing any emotion being the slight lump that appears in her throat.

 _"Ten days,"_ the man reiterates. _"Don't make me ask again."_

With that the broadcast cuts off, the bloodbath showing in it's place, but I can't even will myself to watch that anymore. Not after. . . that.

We sit in silence for what feels like an eternity but must only be a few seconds before Delilah turns towards me. "Focus on your job, Tali, I have calls to make. They. . ." she pauses for a moment, and for the first time in a long time I swear I see genuine sorrow in my sister's eyes. "They will pay for this attack. I promise that. The public will be demanding answers, and I will give them answers.

"They will pay."

 **Apollo Thompson, 45, Capitol Citizen**

I started running the moment I saw her. It was just a sliver, just a glimpse in the corner of the screen for just a single moment before the broadcast was back under control, but one moment was all I needed. _Connie was there._

The run to Coira's house is a short one, and I'm there in just a minute, not even bothering to knock as I quickly open the door and rush in, immediately finding Coira, sitting on the couch and staring at the television with a blank look that tells me everything.

"Coira," I call out hesitantly, but she doesn't even acknowledge me, just continuing to stare at the screen with that glossed over look.

I step into the living room, and swallow a lump in my throat as I glance over at the screen, the screen frozen on a single frame, Connie kneeling over, tears visibly streaming down her cheeks, a look of complete terror in her. A look of terror which her mother now shares.

"Coira," I repeat, taking a seat next to her, carefully placing a hand on her shoulder.

She jolts at the contact, her gaze quickly shooting over to me, fear and anger and confusion all visible in her cloudy eyes. "I'm going," she whispers, and with that she's up on her feet and moving towards the door.

I grab at her hand before she can get far, holding firm even as she tries to tug away. "Coira, listen to me for a moment, I know-"

"Dad. Don't," she shoots back with anger, tugging away from my grip and continuing to walk towards the door with her head to the ground.

"Where are you going, Coira?" I ask her, hustling to keep up, try to talk at least some semblance of sense into her.

"CDA headquarters, I'm talking to Jaycen," she responds quickly, and I let out a sigh of relief that she's at least not so senseless that she's going to try to track down these bastards herself. "And if he won't talk to me, then I'll track down those bastards myself."

 _Shit._

"Coira, that's not a good idea and you know it. Jaycen is capable, and I'm sure they're tracking him down as we speak, everything is going to be fine."

"Bullshit," she shoots back, snatching her keys from the coat rack and glaring me down. "If it were me in Connie's shoes, would you just sit around on your ass?"

"I'm not a good role model," I sigh.

"Well then I guess neither am I," she responds in kind.

"Hey," I say sharply, quickly standing in front of her and blocking her way to the door. "What are you going to do, huh? Just run around the city and search warehouses? There's Capitol techs tracking their signal as we speak, and they're going to find them."

"I was a field agent for six years, I can handle myself," she mutters.

"I don't doubt it, but you're not using your head right now Coira."

"Oh, I'm not using my head?!" She yells, and I instantly cringe at my word choice. "Well, I'm sorry if right now I'm not totally in my RIGHT MIND."

"That's fair," I say calmly, raising my hands defensively. "But Jaycen doesn't need a distraction right now, and you know it. I know that you want answers right now, and I can help you get them, I have connections too you know. So let's go meet with my friend and figure out what's going on, and let Jaycen work on getting her home, okay?"

She goes quiet at that, fist clenching over her keys. Offering a reassuring smile, I place a hand on her shoulder. "Okay, Coira?"

The keys slip out of her hands and hit the floor, and her anger is gone, replaced by that same blank mask that she insists on putting on as she weakly nods her head. "Okay."

I give her shoulder a tight squeeze and quirk a smile. "Connie is a survivor, she's gonna be alright, you hear me?"

"You can't promise that," she mutters back, and I find myself at a loss of words for what to say. Because after all, she's right.

I can't.

 **Jaycen Choice, 30, CDA Senior Director**

The world has turned on its head in just a moment. In just a few minutes the country has gone from secure, stable, and safe to complete chaos. The press is already bombarding us with questions, the still image taken just a moment before the broadcast was cut off already making rounds around the Capitol tabloids. Connie Thompson, seven years old, Capitol citizen, daughter of Coira Thompson: kidnapped. Undoubtedly the press will catch word of the disappearances of Garen, Audra, and Glory soon as well. But the press wasn't his concern, there were larger fish to fry at the moment.

Like the fact that District Thirteen had just committed an act of terrorism on the Capitol and had infringed the agreements of the Coin Accords, thus rendering their peace treaty null and void. Panem was officially at war.

District Thirteen communications went silent just after the broadcast, and no attempts to break through to them have worked. A silent entity with a sizable military force has just kidnapped four very important people, and executed one of them, and are now demanding that we pull Peacekeeper presence from their district. A request that's impossible to fulfill due to the blocked comm channels.

All of this, just minutes after the start of a Quarter Quell that had been hyped up unlike another Hunger Games before it, and just a year after the loss of nearly all senior CDA field agent personnel. Leaving me, a man who has no idea what the hell his job really even is, with the monumental task of fixing this shit show, and doing it in just ten days.

Don't allow the terrorists' to leave the Capitol. Find their location. Rescue the hostages without any more fatalities. Restore communication with District Thirteen. Figure out what the hell they think they're doing, and either give them a stern warning to keep their fringe groups in check, or declare a war that will bring about the deaths of thousands of men and women in a country just barely recovering from the war that raged through it just twenty-six years ago.

Ten days. No problem.

And if I make even a single thing during any of those steps, the consequences are. . . disastrous. The death of two of Panem's most popular victors. The death of a young child that's a citizen of the Capitol. . . of _Connie._ That thought alone manages to cause my whole body to freeze up, and that's not even thinking about the ramifications of another civil war. If we fought District Thirteen, District Eleven would undoubtedly rebel too, and Seven, Six, and potentially Five would all likely follow soon afterwards. From there. . . we could be looking at another full scale rebellion. Just after we're starting to rebuild from our last one, the same war that wiped out _half_ of Panem's population. _Half of the entire country, dead in the streets._ Men, women, children, wounded and sick, nobody was safe, and nobody will be again. Another rebellion. . . Panem might not survive it.

No, Panem _won't_ survive it. No matter what happens, no matter what the consequences are, I won't let that nightmare come to fruition. Panem will not burn itself to ashes in war, not under my watch. There's no room for failure.

I won't fail.

* * *

 **A/N: So, there's some answers to wtf is going on, obviously not all. Shit is going down, and the effects of it will be felt everywhere.**


	28. All Alone

"All Alone"

* * *

 **A/N: Quick thing about POVs here before our Day 1 night chapter. I don't like doing filler chapters. Seriously, hate them. I don't see the point in dragging on the games and sticking in pointless chapters where nothing happens just in order to keep POV counts even. Just because a tribute gets more POVs at a certain time doesn't mean they're more likely to win, or I like them more, or even that they're going to continue to get more POVs than other tributes. It just means more noteworthy things are happening with them right now. That being said nobody will be getting completely left in the dust, so if it seems like your tribute isn't getting much attention, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about them, they're just hanging low for the time being.**

 **With that out of the way, here's our next chapter! Sorry for the delay, I hope it was worth the wait.**

* * *

 _~And I feel so all alone_

 _No one's gonna fix me when I'm broke_

 _How do you cry with inanimate eyes?_

 _You're never gonna smile with the way that you're wired~_

* * *

 **Sigma Krell, 9, District Five**

We ran for a while before we finally decided it was safe to stop. We've been camped out here for a half hour now, the two of us sitting on a log and not talking much, Levi still holding those pills in his hand and looking down at them with a thoughtful look. The pills give me a weird feeling in my gut just looking at them, and not just because of the way that they glow that bright blue and red color. It's almost like. . . I don't know, there's just something odd with them.

"Well," Levi finally says with a heavy sigh, not even looking up from the pills. "If they gave these to us, they must want us to take them, right?"

I shrug, but he doesn't see or acknowledged me anyways, holding the bright blue pill up to his face, staring directly into it. It seems to glow even stronger once it's closer to him, radiating off a blue so bright that it casts a shadow on his face.

"Here goes nothing," he says, popping the pill, swallowing it in one quick gulp.

Both of us are holding our breathes, and I timidly scoot away from him just a bit, nervousness eating away at me. His nervousness seems to swap to relief after a moment, and as soon as that expression takes hold, a wave of calm seems to rush over him as a complacent smile sets on his lips.

I stand up and begin to walk over to him, and he stands too, but he isn't looking over at me. He sets the red pill down, back into the pill bottle on the log, never breaking his gaze from the forest ahead of him. A part of me wants to call out to him, ask him why he's acting so weird, what the heck is going on, anything to not feel so completely lost and confused.

Levi holds up his hand, his brow creasing with concentration as his hand begins to slightly quiver. I'm even more confused now, and take another step towards him, before following his gaze to see what he's looking at.

My jaw drops, and there's really no words to describe the shock at what I'm seeing. Just a few feet away from us, a single twig that was laying on the ground just a moment ago is now in the air. Nothing is holding it up, there's no wires or strings or anything that is pushing it up, it's just. . . floating there. It's like something out of a dream of mine, and I can't help but smile as I watch it, feeling as if I really am just in an imaginary world of mine now. What else could ever possibly allow something like this.

My eyes flutter back to the pill bottle, the one that still holds one more pill in it, and suddenly I realize there might be one other thing that could allow that. Levi seems to be in a trance still, a look of disbelief and joy as he continues to keep it in the air. He doesn't even seem to notice me as I walk back to the log, pick up the bottle, and dump the glowing red pill into my hand.

Without so much as another thought about it, I tilt back my head and swallow the pill. For just a second, I feel nothing, and begin to wonder if maybe mine doesn't work, but then a moment later it hits me.

The head rush is unlike anything I've ever felt, a throbbing pain combined with a burst of adrenaline that makes my hands shake, unsure if the feeling is good or bad. My vision goes black, and my legs collapse under me as I fall to my knees. My head is throbbing now, pounding so hard it feels like my brain is pushing against my skull, trying to force its way out. The feeling doesn't let up, just going stronger and stronger, while at the same time I can feel something else building up, something completely unlike pain or any sort of feeling I've experienced before. It's a feeling of control, of power, like I could snap my fingers and the world would be erased.

 _"Sigma?"_

I can feel it building in me, swelling and running through my blood, a tingling sensation running down my fingertips.

 _"Sigma!"_

The darkness is only spreading now, taking over everything, until the entire world is just-

" _SIGMA!"_

My eyes shoot open, and as soon as they do I only have a moment to take in the chaos around me. I'm still on my knees, but now I'm floating seamlessly in the air, surrounded all over my rocks, stones, sticks, anything and everything around me all levitating in the air, violently shaking as Levi calls out my name, standing back helplessly as he watches.

And just like that it's over. With a thud I drop back down to the ground, and just as I do everything else collapses as well, all falling harmlessly down to the ground, aside from a few twigs which pelt Levi as he swats them away from his face.

Levi looks shocked, and I know that I don't look any different, my head still spinning and throbbing as my hair messily falls over my eyes. There's still that pounding feeling, like the beat of drums as it steadily increases, and my whole body is still tingling with that power, whispers in my ear calling me back, willing me to use the power I can feel at my fingertips.

"Sigma. . . are you okay?"

The voice of Levi is enough to snap me out of my trance yet again, and I look up to him, forcing a smile on my lips as I nod.

"What was that?" He asks, still looking weary.

The whispers are coming back now, louder and louder as they practically scream in my ears, coursing through my veins and pumping in my heart. I don't know the exact words they're saying but the message is still clear, the whispers willing me forwards, begging me to grasp at the power that I can feel welling up in me.

Sucking in a deep breath, I shrug as nonchalantly as I can to Levi, doing my best to ignore the voices, push aside the craving that's building in me with every passing moment.

"This is pretty crazy, huh?" He asks with a short laugh.

 _Yeah,_ I think as I nod my head. _It is._

 **Blaze Colton, 21, District Twelve**

The flamethrower feels good to be holding in my hands. Even if I'd prefer to have a knife, or a sword, or heck, even just use my bare fists in a fight, having something in my possession makes me feel I'm doing alright so far. Especially since the other tributes in this arena might have weapons on them too, who knows what else could be out there. Seven canons so far, and I'm going to keep on wandering through these woods until I can make it eight. Get myself one-third of the way out of this arena by the end of the first day. One-third of the way home.

Nobody else is allowed to stand in my way, and there's nobody that I'm scared of running into in this arena. I don't care who or what else is standing in my way, nothing can stop or slow me down. Not with all that I have at stake.

The forest is eerily quiet, no animals or birds or even bugs making a noise. There's just complete silence. The only sounds I've heard so far have been the canons and a few odd sounds I don't know what to think of. Earlier there were a few distant screams, some sonic booms and other sorts of noises I couldn't hope to describe, and then just a few minutes ago there was that ground shaking earthquake.

Then, there's something that cuts through the silence. To my right, just barely in earshot, the snapping of a tree branch. There's no wildlife in this arena it seems like, which means either it's a mutt or a tribute. Either way, I'm running in one direction and one direction only: towards it.

I don't even bother trying to be silent, stomping through the forest as fast as I can, ready for whatever is waiting for me as I tightly grip the flamethrower, my trigger finger itching. There's only silence for a few moments, and I begin to lose track of where the sound came from, but just before I stop and give up, another twig snaps, this time much closer.

I'm off to the races again, dead set on the location I heard it from this time, and I can hear footsteps pounding against foliage ahead of me, even if I still can't see a damn thing through this fog. After another minute of chasing I break out into a small clearing, just a tiny little area surrounding a creek that has no trees, and soon as I do I see the person I've been chasing.

Her name I can't remember, but the large seven plastered on the front of her black jumpsuit tells me enough. The girl is probably about sixteen or so, and looks shaken up and scared, barely keeping up a brave face as she stands in the middle of the opening. There's a gigantic hammer that she grips in her hands, but this isn't any ordinary hammer. The weapon is even taller than she is, standing at about six feet or so, and the club at the end is shaped oddly, with glowing blue lights attached to the end. It seems to radiate off some sort of energy, and the girl seems to be careful not to go near the end of it.

It's enough to give me pause for a moment, but I quickly shake it off. This isn't the time for being scared or strategic, now is the time to fight. I charge back at her again, catching her off guard as she seems frozen is shock, completely startled. I rear back the flamethrower, and with all my might wack her in the head with the stock of it. She's barely able to react, the metal tubing smacking her in the forehead as she falls backwards.

As she falls, she pushes off of the hammer, and I attempt to catch the handle before it falls, but fail. Time seems to go in slow-motion as the hammer falls, the blue lights blinking in my eyes as they fall down beside me. The hammer collides with the ground, and in a flash the entire earth seems to shake, a cosmic force blowing me off of my feet and send my flying backwards, just barely clinging onto the flamethrower as I slide to a stop against a tree.

I'm completely out of breath, and the girl doesn't seem to be holding up much better, stumbling to her feet as she holds her forehead. Blood drips down steadily, a sizable gash on her head that leaves her barely able to stand on her feet. As soon as I climb to my own feet though, a survivalist nature seems to overtake her, and she begins to stumble her way over to the hammer.

I'm making my way over there as quickly as I can as well, not wanting to see what happens when that thing actually hits you, and not just the ground next to you. It's difficult though, my ears are still ringing and the world seems to be spinning around me, making just walking in a straight line a difficult task.

She's just about to reach the hammer when I'm only halfway there, and as a last ditch effort I pull up my flamethrower, and without even bothering to attempt to aim, squeeze the trigger. Instantly a bright orange flame shoots out from the tip, engulfing the air in heat. The fire doesn't even come close to the girl, but it still startles her as she lets out a yelp and stumbles backwards- directly onto the hammer.

The effect is instant, her body catapulted like she weighed nothing at all, sent flying across the clearing until she collides roughly with a tree stump, her entire body crumpling as she drops down the rest of the way, another rough collision with the ground that sends her tumbling. If she was in harsh shape before, she's barely clutching onto life now. Her head is gushing blood, and her arms and legs are mangled messes that must be snapped and broken at every turn. Her entire body is curled up into a ball, twitching violently as she softly moans under her breath.

The sight is a bit much even for me, but I quickly push aside any thoughts of pity. No, I still need to finish the job. One step closer to home. No room for hesitation, no time for regret.

I take my time this time around, clutching onto the flamethrower as I move towards her. She seems just barely conscious at first, but once she sees me moving towards her the girls eyes widen in fear. She seems to be trying to get up and move, but there's no chance her body listens to her at this point. She's completely helpless.

"P-p-p-please," she stammers out.

I ignore her though. There's no time for hesitation now. No going back.

"I-I-I h-have a f-f-f-f-family. I-I c-can help y-y-you."

I'm standing directly over her now, her wide eyes looking up at me pleadingly, tears staining her cheeks. I'll just pretend that it's from the pain. She's dead anyways, I'm just helping her on her way out, nothing else to it.

"I-I d-d-don't wanna die," she squeaks out, and now I refuse to even look at her, instead switching my gaze to the weapon in my hands. Not the prettiest way to go out, but better than just leaving her here. . . right?

There's no time for second guessing though, and I steel myself to make the choice I know needs to be made. Not for me, but for June. This is the only way. I have no choice.

My finger squeezes the trigger, and I try my hardest to block out the screams that follow.

 **Ephraim Kress, 17, District Twelve**

I haven't stopped running. Ever since I was lifted up into this arena right next to the one person who hates my guts, I've been running without turning back. At first I was just running off raw adrenaline, knowing that if I didn't get away from Blaze, I wouldn't survive. He might've been able to outrun me too, but he picked up that flamethrower before chasing after me, and that slowed him down just enough for me to break out of his sight. Even then I wasn't sure I would make it, and for the next hour I kept on running, ignoring the burning in my lungs and the buckling of my kneecaps, positive that if I slowed down even the slightest that Blaze would be there right behind me.

It wasn't until I got to the river that I stopped- not by my own choice either, sent stumbling into the water after tripping over a stone. I just about smacked my head against the rocks and got myself a concussion for real this time- or worse. I got lucky again though, and aside from a wounded pride and soaked clothes I came out okay.

After that I slowed down a bit, still making good ground but no longer pushing myself to exhaustion. I'm already all too aware of my dehydration to tire myself out anymore. Of course, I've been walking along the river for the past few hours now and could always just take a sip of that water to quench my thirst, but Snow knows what they put in that stuff. There's nothing living in there, so that can't be a good sign, not that there's anything living in here at all. Just berries and nuts, none of which I have the slightest clue as to whether or not their edible.

Starving and dehydrating while surrounded by food and water. Suppose that I should have paid more attention to the survival stations in training, but hey, not like I can change it now.

All I can do now is just hope that I bump into Peeka. Aside from the obvious piece of it that I'd love to have some company in this creepy place that has fog so thick you can barely see your own hands, and not even a glimpse of the sun to know whether its night or day, there's the other, more practical piece to it too. Peeka actually paid a lot of attention to the survival stations, and would know what's safe to eat, how to purify our water, how to find and build a shelter. . . not like that's the only reason, or even the main reason I want to run into her, but still, doesn't hurt.

Mostly though I just want to be with somebody that I could maybe call a friend in here. I don't exactly do so well on my own. Sure I get into more fights than I'd like to admit, and might not always think what I say through enough, but in the end I need people around me. I've been in this place for just, what? A few hours? Can't have been more than that, since the faces haven't even been shown in the sky yet, but at the same time it feels like its already been over a day in here. There's no way to tell time, and that feeling is only strengthened when there's nobody to talk to, and your left with nothing but the creeping feeling that somebody is here with you, watching you, waiting for the moment that you close your eyes and give into your fatigue.

That's a dark thought, and I immediately attempt to purge it from my thoughts. I have enough to worry about without driving myself insane through paranoia. Yeah, there's another fifteen people in here with me, at least fourteen of which want me dead. . . possibly more, considering Peeka most likely went up with Cedric.

There's another thought to push away. Until I see her face in the sky, I refuse to believe that she's dead. She wouldn't give up hope on me and I won't stop giving up on her either.

That's enough to keep me pushing forward for now, another wave of motivation coursing through me, feeling myself become resolved. Just keep on following the river, it's bound to lead somewhere, right? A lake, an ocean, a field outside of this horrible forest, a house, another tribute, anything at all is better than just aimlessly trudging through the seemingly endless fog that pervades the forest.

I keep on going with renewed vigor for another hour, not letting my hopes fall, keeping my hope and my spirits high, even humming a little whistle to myself against better judgement, just to keep things bright. Maybe it's a stupid, pointless risk that might draw attention, but it gives me a sense of calm and normalcy that keeps me focused, and in the end, that focus is exactly what ends up coming to be in my favor.

Just as I can feel tiredness begin to set over me new, my energy starting to sap, I spot something that brings that adrenaline right back. Just barely visible through the fog, some odd hundred feet away sits a person, a small figure curled up in a ball next to a table. Another few cautious steps and I begin to make out more of the picture, the girl facing away from me, the unmistakable trail of blood starting at her current location and ending just a few feet behind her, where a large puddle of blood stains the grass.

My thoughts that it must be Peeka are now much less sure, unable to wrap my mind around the idea that it could be her that's at the center of so much bloodshed, and clearly- death. But just another step forward and now it's undeniable, her deep brown hair and tanned skin unmistakable from this vantage point.

A part of my feels relieved at the revelation, and wants to call out to her immediately. The one person that I was looking for and here she is, found in just a few hours, how lucky is that? But still another part stops me from that, knowing that something here is all too wrong. That blood. . . somebody died here, and it wasn't all too recent either judging by the looks of it. Yet there she is, still right next to her starting point, huddled over, motionless and without sound. It's eerie to say the least, and a selfish, scared inner part of myself wants to just turn around and keep on walking, ignore that I ever even saw this and move on.

But I don't give into that timid whisper, pushing aside any worries and continuing to make my way over to her, unwittingly being sure to not make a single sound, not even sure what to say to get her attention. Do I call out? What do I even say? What if she's hurt, on the verge of death, and that's why she's not moving? What if she's not Peeka at all, and just a mutt that looks like her that's going to turn around any moment know and lash out at me?

All of these thoughts are racing through my head and clouding my judgement, dizzying my thoughts to the point where I do what just might be the absolute worst way to get her attention.

"Peeka?" I ask quietly, giving her a nudge on the shoulder that's half-reassuring and half-prodding.

The moment I tap on her, she goes from motionless to feral. She lets out a bone-chilling scream that seems to come from a place of absolutely and utter terror, terror that's wide in her eyes as she leaps away from me and spins, backpedaling away from me rabidly. There's no reason or calm in her eyes, just that feral and wild fear that shines through, staring through me without care or recognition.

"Are you okay?" I ask, and instantly hit myself for it. Doesn't exactly look like she's fine and dandy, does she, Ephraim?

Those words seem to be enough to bring some level of recognition back into her, however, her eyes brimming with tears as she charges into me and collides, nearly sending me to the ground as she buries her head in my chest. The sobs that rise from her aren't like anything I've heard before, a sort of helpless, breathless exasperation, panicked and without any sign of stoppage. She's muttering some senseless string of words, the words _monster_ seeming to repeat itself over and over, until that really is all that she's saying, just spitting that out in between gasps of breath and choked out sobs.

I'm not sure if there's anything even to say at this point, so for once I don't even bother, instead just squeezing onto her shoulder and letting her continue to cry, trying my hardest to ignore the splatters of blood that stain her clothes and knuckles.

Trying in vein to not think about what it entails.

 **Hailey Hills, 13, District One**

Prestige finally managed to fall asleep. Or at least her eyes are closed and she's pretending to sleep, I can't actually really tell, and I'd feel weird staring at her to try to figure it out. Not that there'd be anything weird about it, just, well, I don't know actually. Things have just gotten really confusing really fast. In a way, I like things better when they're awful. Terrible, bad, rotten things are easy to expect and unsurprising when they come. Prestige hating my guts? Understandable. Everyone in this arena wanting to kill me? Reasonable. Prestige suddenly getting all clingy and wanting to be my ally? Confusing.

More than confusing, actually. More like so ridiculously weird and unexpected that I'm half sure that the real quell twist is that they threw us all in a simulation and none if this is actually real. I mean, the fact that Prestige is asleep (or not, again, not really sure there), with her head leaning up against my shoulder while I watch guard for the night is. . . off-putting. I mean, she made it pretty clear that she's only sleeping next to me for safety and not because of anything else, but still, I guess it's not a bad thing. Or well, maybe it is actually, considering that the only reason she's like this is she has PTSD from nearly being brutally murdered and god knows what else, but. . . I'm not complaining? I guess? God I'm pathetic.

While that sappy emotional side of me that's been acting up like a damn nightmare the past few weeks is loving every second of this, the smart and hardened side of me is just growing all the more weary. Having an ally that got a ten in training isn't a bad thing, but last year made it very clear that there's only ever going to be one victor, and I don't want to be second in the line of Careers that get all lovey-dovey and decided surviving isn't the single most important thing in life. Since, you know, without survival there _is_ no life. Duh.

But still, I can't help but replay those words that Joel spoke to me just before I left. That. . . you gotta find something worth _living_ for. I've been thinking about that every night since then, and the more I think on it the less I can understand what he meant. If I was in here to survive, then I would be smart and ditch Prestige right now, while I'm still not too attached to her, and while she's still scarred enough that she won't survive on her own, so I won't run into her again. But, aside from that being the biggest dick move in the history of dick moves, Joel didn't say surviving, he said _living._ To love is to live, like my dad always used to say. . . which is a whole 'nother can of worms that I don't even want to touch, much less open. But the baggage behind the fact that _he_ of all people would say that aside, I guess I can see what he means. To survive is to have a heartbeat, to live is to actually do something with it. So far in my life, I've just been doing a whole lot of surviving and nothing else. Maybe. . . maybe I should take this tiny, short little chance to actually live, who knows, it might even be the last chance I got.

Wouldn't dad have been so proud, Hailey Hills, the philosophical lovey-dovey poet. Since when does the Hunger Games turn you into an emotional sap? Isn't it supposed to, you know, make everyone go psycho and kill each other until only one kid emerges three weeks later soaked in blood and grinning ear to ear? Someone must've lost the memo somewhere along the line.

I blow a raspberry and shuffle up against the tree, trying to ignore the irritating way the grass rubs up against me and instead be thankful for the lack of bugs out here. Just eight or so more hours of this Hailey, since you were so inclined to pay white knight and force Prestige to sleep while you take the entire night shift. Joel always told me if I started acting like a dumb hormonal teenage girl he'd disown me, and I'm starting to see why. I'm even annoying myself with all this sappiness.

Luckily I get a bit of reprieve from the endless stream of idiotic consciousness that my mind is right now when the anthem begins to play, the Panemian seal displaying holographically just below the tree canopies that block out the sky and make it impossible to even know when night and morning are. Eight cannons went off today, time to find out who the unlucky sons of bitches were.

The first one is the most unsurprising surprise I've ever been graced upon in my life, Unity's dumb, ditzy smirk smiling down on me unknowingly. Horatio is too much of a prickish animal to wait for his first kill, so color me shocked that he went and murdered the one girl placed in the general vicinity of him. Not a pretty last sight to feast your eyes upon for poor Unity, but I can't say she deserves better.

Next up are both girls from District Seven, which isn't too surprising but is interesting enough. That means that one of them killed the other in the "bloodbath" and then must have been the cannon that went off just an hour or so ago. Which means that every other tribute who's died (aside from the asshole I killed) was taken down by their district partner.

The twenty-one year old, Nicholas I think his name was, from District Eight is the next face in the sky. Kind of surprising that he was taken down by a fourteen-year-old, but that Lex kid did seem pretty pissed off at him so hey, not too shocking I guess.

The boy from Nine, Juno is another unsurprising one to see, that Clara girl doesn't seem like someone who's going to go down early. Not that I'm worried of her fighting talents or anything, but still, wouldn't be surprised to see her make a deep run.

The first real surprise of the night comes with the next face that shows in the sky: Cedric, the boy from Ten. That means that Peek-a-boo or whatever the hell her name is, the timid, ditzy girl obsessed with her fiance that seemed like she'd have trouble killing a horsefly took out one of the bigger competitors in the games, and one that wanted her dead with a passion at that too. She must've gotten her hands on whatever special weapon they were given, and it must've been one hell of a weapon for her to pull that one out of her ass.

Finally, the last two faces that I already know are coming appear in the sky: first the poor girl that brutish dickhead killed, then Mr. dickhead himself. I can't say that I'm sorry for killing him, if anyone has ever deserved to die it's him, but still, the way that it happened. . . the way that his head just slid clean off his shoulders, his eyes lifeless as they stared unblinkingly through me. . . .

No. He was an asshole, and he- he was gonna do god knows what to Prestige, and-and he fucking deserved it. There's nothing more, no big moral question to it. What goes around comes around, he wants to kill kids then he gets to die, not like there's anyone who's going to mourn the desecration of his body. The sword going clean through him just surprised me, that's all. Yeah. . . nothing more to it. Just a bit of shock, more power than I was expecting, a lot of adrenaline rushing through me, all of those mixed signals and jumbled feelings with Prestige, it's all just a mess and I need some time to sort everything out.

Time, thankfully, is something I have a lot of right now, with the last face dropping from the sky and leaving us back in darkness. Just me and an empty, lifeless forest that I'm going to watch all night. Who knows, by the time morning comes around, I might have just about every single one of my life's problems solved. And well, if I'm going through all my problems, I don't think I have to look very far to start.

* * *

 **A/N: And we're back. So updates might slow down, or might not. I went like two months without writing than churned out these last two POVs in just over an hour, so maybe I've tapped into some writing juices or something, I dunno. Plus, I think I'm temporarily done partying after nearly dying a few nights ago so I need something else to fill my Saturday nights doing that doesn't involve puking my guts out lol.**

 **Anyways, moving on from my dysfunctional life and onto this dysfunctional story, I hope you enjoyed this wild mess of a chapter haha. My goal with this arena is to keep things tense and full of suspense, action, and/or mystery, so hopefully I'm doing a decent job of that so far. I don't want anything to feel like filler, or that it's just being written for the sake of being written.**

 **With that being said, now that the first day is over and our first 8 deaths are confirmed, the map, alliance possessions, and sponsorship are all up and running! You can find the map on the blog, the alliance possessions on my profile, and sponsorship info is on the profile, and if you want to sponsor anything you can just go ahead and PM me about it to get it done ASAP. Things are moving fast in this story, and due to the lack of a cornucopia nobody really has much stuff right now, so sponsorship could definitely play a big role in things!**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite POV?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Thoughts on the way alliances are playing out? Any that you expect to see start to form? Some that you think are going to break apart?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Who do you most look forward to hearing from on day 2?**

24: Unity: RIP, we barely knew yee

23: Bluebell: RIP, we barely knew yee

22: Nicholas: RIP, we barely knew yee

21: Bailey: RIP, we barely knew yee

20: Juno: RIP, we barely knew yee

19: Cedric: RIP, we barely knew yee

18: Frazier: RIP, we barely knew yee

17: Rachel: RIP, we barely knew yee


	29. Paralyzed

"Paralyzed"

* * *

 **A/N: A relatively short chapter to check in on everyone and set up some things :)**

* * *

 _~I can't control myself, don't know who I've been_

 _And who is this monster wearing my skin?~_

* * *

 **Clyde Kaniff, 22, District Six**

Day one was. . . not what I expected. I guess I should be happy about that. I'm okay, and even more importantly, Rain is. But this entire arena is giving me a bad feeling. It isn't just the arena itself either, even if the dead silence and constant darkness are unnerving. Thankfully Rain is managing to keep her spirits up, mostly thanks to the thing that has me so worried.

When we were raised up there was no food, no water, no weapons. There was only a bag and a note. The note didn't bother to give any useful information either, instead just reading: _Tracer Prototype, click to use._ As if that weren't cryptic enough on its own, the actual item inside the bag only made it all the more strange. Inside was a vest, with a glowing, bluish-green circle in the center. The way it glows though. . . it's something unnatural. It's not just a light, there's something more to it there. Finally, answering the question of 'what is it I'm supposed to click exactly,' was a pair of orange gloves, the right one having a small button on the wrist.

So that leads us to now. Rain and I just walked for all of yesterday, not wanting to test out the strange prototype without having any idea what it does, and not really having anything else to do. Instead we just aimlessly wandered for a while through the fog, and now after a night of hardly any sleep from my end, and seemingly not much more luck from Rain, we're left with the big question staring us right in the face.

What the hell do we do with this thing?

"Yawn."

"Did you just say yawn?" I chuckle as I turn over to Rain, who is rubbing her eyes tiredly, having just woken up.

"Maybe," she shrugs, letting out an actual yawn this time. "What's for breakfast?"

"As of now, nothing," I sigh, continuing to fiddle with the gloves and vest already attached to my chest.

"Bleh, more boring stuff then," she sighs, laying her head back down onto the grass. "Wake me up when we have food then."

"Yeah sure, I guess I'll just test this by myself then. . . ."

Rain's eyes immediately shoot open, and in a second she's up on her feet and scrambling over to me. "Really? Can I click the button?"

"No," I say in a voice that I hope sounds more strict than amused. "I'm gonna figure out what it does first, we have no idea what this does."

"Hopefully it shoots out marshmallows," she murmurs.

"Well, only one way to find out," I shrug. Never have been one to take too many chances, and while having Rain in here is going to make me a lot more careful than usual, I'm not about to sit here and not use the one thing we got in this arena. "Just back up a bit from me sweety, don't want you to get hurt."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," she grumbles. "I got dibs on using it after you though."

"Keep dreaming, Rain," I laugh, causing her to stick out her tongue at me teasingly.

"Alright," I mutter under my breath, focusing myself on the task at hand. Ahead of me is, as far as I can see, an open little field. Well, as open as this place seems to get, with just a few twigs and logs standing in the way, a thin little path that gives space from the dense forest.

"Here goes nothing."

I click the button. The world seems to slow down. I don't know how I know, there's nothing moving or talking, but I can just feel it. I take a tentative step forward, and I move at a normal speed. I turn around and can see Rain in the distance, frozen nearly perfectly still, her mouth just barely hanging open. I take a few more steps towards her, and now I can see that she isn't frozen, that she's moving, just. . . very, very slowly. So slowly that I can't even see the movements, I just sort of. . . know that she's moving. The entire thing is eerie, some indescribably feeling pulsing through me, like an adrenaline rush, yet. . . not. Like instead of things just seeming like the world is slowing down around you, it really is.

I click the button again. Rain's open mouth quickly turns as she forms a yelp, hopping backwards and landing on her rear. She looks up at me with wide eyes as I walk over to her. The surprise and any traces of fear leave her expression in an instant as she leaps up to her feet, a curiosity shining brightly through her eyes.

"What was that?" She asks excitedly, bouncing her way over to me.

"I don't know, what did it look like?" I ask hesitantly.

"It looked like you had super-speed, you like, zoomed all over the place, super fast."

"Weird, because to me it just looked like you were going really slow," I shrug cheekily.

"That is so cool," she sighs dreamily. "Let me try now!"

"Not happening," I laugh.

"What?" She asks, deflated.

"I still don't know exactly what this does, or if it's totally safe. . . plus, you're already bouncing around quick enough without this," I add in lightheartedly, hoping to lighten the mood at least a bit.

She takes to it shockingly well, giving a pouty face for a moment before shrugging it off and plopping herself back down onto the grass. "Well, there better at least be _something_ fun to do then, if you're gonna hog the coolest thing of all time all to yourself."

On queue, as if someone had been waiting this entire time for those exact words, the ground opens up. Both of us leap backwards from it for a moment, but before either of us have any further reason to worry, a silver box shoots its way up through the foot wide hole, closing up as soon as the box is on the solid ground.

"This place is weird," Rain giggles, either completely unfazed by whatever it is we just witnessed, or deciding to not worry about it.

"Just a bit," I murmur in response, holding up my hand to keep Rain away from the box, which earns an eye roll, a sigh, and a disappointed plop back to the ground just moments after standing again.

On closer look the box isn't made of metal, but just a cardboard colored a shiny silver, and it has the number six stamped onto the side, making it clear who it's meant for.

Rain suddenly lights up, and before I can even begin to try to stop her she's onto her feet and running over to the box. I catch up to her just as she peels back the top, grinning excitedly as she reaches down into it.

"Look at this!" She laughs, pulling out a felt hat, complete with a giant goldfish on top. "Dibs."

"All yours," I chuckle, trying to allow myself to calm down. No threat here, just a box that came out of the ground that has a goldfish hat inside of it. Normal day in the Hunger Games.

"Er, think this is for you though," she says, scratching the back of her neck as she steps back from the box, nudging me over to it.

The other object inside is a much more useful one, and restores a bit of the lost faith I had in Atlas after the hat. A single dagger, with razor sharp edges in a silver so clear that it could double as a mirror.

"Alright, that's more like it," I nod approvingly, tucking the dagger at my belt for safe use. Super speed, a dagger, and a goldfish hat. Now if we could just find some food.

 **Prestige Freeman, 15, District One**

 _I can't breathe. My lungs are on fire, throat constricting, desperately trying to push in just a single drop of air, anything to cool the burning pain spreading from my chest across my entire body. One moment my brain is pulsating, my heart pounding, arms and legs thrashing out wildly, the next moment everything is going still. I can feel my brain tiring, willing my body to give up and just go to sleep, my heart slowing down and agreeing with my brain, wanting to just go to sleep, ready to give up. Somewhere deep inside of me a small part of me is still screaming, thrashing, desperately wanting to not give in, knowing that this isn't what I want. But that part is growing more silent every second. From a scream, to a shout, to a whisper, to a whimper, to just a breathless, beaten down will that has all but lost its fight, only kept going by a sturdy stubbornness._

I wake up with a start, a panicked sort of falling feeling lurching me up, gasping for air. My entire body is soaked with sweat, and a cold chill runs over me as soon as my surroundings set in on me. I'm in the middle of a dark, misty forest with nothing but the grass to sleep on.

"What?" Comes a tired, worried voice to my right.

Oh yeah, and there's her. Hailey barely looks awake, propped up against a tree trunk, red, sleep-deprived eyes rabidly scanning her surroundings. Her hair is a wild mess, thrown all over her face and nearly covering her eyes completely, and her clothes already have a few rips and tears on their arms from yesterday.

Looking down at myself, I don't seem to be doing any better. I quickly blow a strand of hair out of my eyes, ruffling with it a little bit in a pointless attempt to straighten it. My clothes are in worse shape than Hailey's, the training outfit stained with grass and soaked through with sweat, not to mention the tears along the arms that match Hailey's. Thankfully I at least had the common sense to take the jersey off before going to sleep last night, my token sitting neatly beside me.

Best to just focus on one thing at a time, and ignore unpacking the absolute hell that the last day has been.

"I'm gonna change," I grunt, crawling to my feet.

"Okay," she yawns, eyes glazed over as she blankly stares forward.

"Really?" I sigh.

Her eyes peel open with understanding, her cheeks flushing red. "Oh, I didn't-" she stammers out.

"Yeah."

"I'll just-"

"Yeah."

She climbs to her feet, head down and thumbs in her pocket as she quickly walks away, only stopping to scoop up one of those light swords before disappearing into the fog.

A burst of anxiety rushes through me the moment she does, and I have to bite down on my lip hard in an effort to stop the shaking that runs through my bones. The terror is overwhelming, blocking out any rational thoughts and flooding my systems with the uncanny feeling that I'm being watched, that I'm being hunted, that at any moment someone is going to appear out of nowhere. That he's going to appear again, that sly, greedy smirk as he tackles me to the ground, hands wrapped around my throat before I get the chance to react. That feeling of helplessness is back, my entire skeleton locking in place, freezing up, unable to help myself. Needing someone else to keep me safe, knowing that without it I would be dead, and. . . I don't even want to think about what else.

It takes all my willpower just to get myself out of that state, fingers twitching as I clench my fists, sucking a deep breath through my teeth. I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay. That has to be the most unconvincing mantra of all time, but it's enough to at least get my muscles unlocked, the nervous shaking visible in my arms as I reach down for the jersey.

"C'mon Prestige," I mutter to myself in a low whisper. "Nothing's gonna happen to you. Just change out of these gross clothes, and move on from there."

"You done?" I hear from behind me, and I hate how I have no control over my body as I leap in terror at the noise.

"J-just give me a minute," I call back in a stutter.

I seem to at least partially snap back into it after that, still shaking and filled with a overwhelming sense of dread but now at least able to control my body. As soon as I'm changed into my jersey, I feel a small wave of relief wash over me, just a small dent into the all-encompassing anxiety inside of me, but at least something. A small sense of comfort and familiarity. A little piece of normalcy in this scorched hellscape.

"Uh, you alright?" She calls out, seeming more confused than worried at this point. I don't blame her.

"Yeah, I'm. . . yeah. You, uh, you're good."

With that it's my turn to avoid eye contact, eyes on the ground as I stuff my damp shirt into the backpack. Before I zip up the bag and move on though, my eyes land on the silver handle of the weapon that I took from the table I rose up next to. The weapon that was used to slice the head clean off of that boy. Or well, not the exact same one, this one is blue, Hailey's is red.

I take a minute to just look at the weapon in my hands, scanning over the surface. There's nothing very special looking about it, just a silver tube with some grips, a clip to attach it a to a belt, and a red button.

Hailey walks over to me, giving me an odd look. "Uh, so, what's the plan."

"Well," I swallow a lump in my throat, giving Hailey a tentative glance. Her eyes are darting around the surroundings, and as soon as she notices that I'm looking at her she gives me a tentative, shy smile, her cheeks rosy pink. Ugh. Screw feelings. "Can you teach me how to fight?" I ask breathlessly.

She seems taken aback, scratching the back of her neck as she glances between me and the weapon in my hand. "You mean with that thing?"

"No shit."

"I mean, that thing sort of cut through that dude's-" she cuts herself off mid-sentence, wincing and scratching the back of her neck again. "I just mean, that thing isn't exactly a trainer's sword."

I let out a tired sigh. "You gonna teach me, or no, just cut the bullshit."

She looks unsure, nervously brushing back her hair as she lets out a deep breath. "Alright," she says breathlessly. "I-I guess."

"Alright, good," I say stiffly, trying to bury the emotions that threaten to spill over right now.

"Yeah," she laughs nervously, shaking her head. "Fucking great."

 **McKenna Bay, 17, District Four**

It could be worse. That's what I have to remind myself of. I could have been stuck with Horatio, or Unity, and as much as I dislike being alone with only Merrium as an ally, it's not worst case scenario. If I was by myself I wouldn't have anyone to trade keeping watch with, and in this arena that could be dangerous, considering there seems to be no natural cover aside from the fog.

Furthermore, we got some decent firepower thanks to the weapons we were given. While I was more than wary at the glass bottle labeled _Vigor Prototype_ that we were supposed to drink from, Merrium held no such reservations, and made a good test dummy to ensure it was safe. The fact that it somehow gave us the ability to shoot concentrated blasts of lightning from out fingertips was far off from the expectations that I had. Assuming that every district had some sort of different ability of equal power, it's going to be fascinating talking to the Gamemakers about how they managed to create these. It seems far beyond our technological capabilities, so perhaps the arena itself is altered in some sort of way to make these feats possible? Maybe they've even put us into a simulation to allow this, that would be interesting.

But before I learn about how they did this, the first priority is finding out what the other tributes have in their possession. Eight died on the first day, with District Eleven already completely eliminated. Last night there was that ground tremor, and I wouldn't be surprised to find that was created by somebody's 'prototype.' If I could just find even one more tribute to find out what sort of weapons we're looking at facing, that would help immensely. Not knowing what our enemies are equipped with adds a certain level of difficulty to the Games that normally doesn't exist, but it's a challenge I look forward to tackling.

Then there's the fact that we, and assumedly everybody else, have no food, water, or survival gear given to them. Added to that, there's no signs of animal life, and no way to know if the stream contains drinkable water.

"This has to be the worst arena ever created," Merrium grumbles, stumbling over a branch.

"They're not going to want us to starve to death with these sorts of weapons," I hum, being careful to not trip over that same branch. "There's more to this arena than just low visibility and no animals."

"Probably just trying to get a few outer district kids to shit themselves," she mutters, kicking a twig out of her way.

"Paranoia is certainly a benefit of this arena, could lead to tributes being more willing to fight when they see someone. Then make it a small arena so that tributes are likely to run into each other, and you're bound to get lots of fights." I pause for a moment, and shrug. "Makes sense to me, just raises the question of food."

"Yeah, well, hopefully we get that answer soon."

"It's only day two, I'm sure we won't be waiting too long."

Ahead of me, Merrium pauses dead in her tracks, staring off at something in the distance. "Either that was the greatest timing in Hunger Games history or the Gamemakers are just messing with us right now," Merrium deadpans, eyes flickering back towards me.

I pick up my speed, jogging to catch up, and sure enough out of the fog the outline of a large castle begins to become visible in the nearby distance. It's further out than is normally visible in this place, but with how large it is I'm not surprised. The place towers into the sky, about four or five stories high, and although it's impossible to tell for sure, it looks like its fairly wide as well.

"Either way, I suppose it's only logical to check it out?" I ask.

"Sure, why not," she shrugs, moving forwards in a nonchalant manner before I'm able to respond.

"Looks like some sort of castle," I shoot out, picking up my pace to catch up to her.

"So where's the moat," she laughs, and then another second later, "I have to stop talking."

Now that we're closer to the castle we have a better view of the place, although it's so big that we can only see the front of it, and I doubt you could see the entire thing at once from any vantage point. What we saw earlier was just the outer walls, a solid two stories into the air, surrounding the inner castle. Before you can even reach the wall, however, you'd have to get through the murky water that surrounds it. The stream we've been following leads directly into it, and although I can't see any more streams I'm sure there's more that lead into the massive moat.

"Thing is as big as a lake," Merrium mutters.

"Would take about fifteen minutes for us to swim across that I'm guessing, much more for anyone else. That water doesn't exactly look safe either," I muse, continuing to walk closer to the moat.

"Every castle has a drawbridge, right?" Merrium asks, seemingly unsure herself.

"There's no other way to get across," I sigh, stroking my chin thoughtfully.

Merrium joins me in sighing, her already not very cheery self managing to deflate even more. "We're going to have to walk around this entire thing looking for a drawbridge, aren't we?"

"And then figure out how to get it down," I add. "This thing seems a solid three-fourths of a mile in diameter from here, which means the circumference of the moat is roughly three miles."

"Fuck me," Merrium mutters under her breath.

"If we're thorough in our search, and we both split up to halve our time spent, it should take. . . half an hour?"

"I'll take this way," she murmurs, slogging off towards the left.

"Alright," I sigh, taking one last look up at the towering walls ahead of me before starting my search. "Show me what you got."

 **Levi Ezra, 17, District Five**

Sigma's beginning to worry me. The blade of grass hovers just above my finger tips, twirling around on its axis with just a thought. Sigma is awake- and has been for a while apparently, already being wide awake and staring off into the distance when I woke up this morning. She seems to be locked into a trance, kneeling on the floor as she stares off into the shrouded distance, a flicker of orange coating her doe brown eyes. The entire earth isn't shaking around her though, so compared to yesterday's burst she's doing fine, and something inside of me is telling me to just leave her alone.

The world seems to have a clarity to it now. At first I was blown away by the fact that I could lift things with just a thought, and I mean, who wouldn't be? But as cool as it is, it pales in comparison to the full effects that whatever they gave us does. Sigma's outburst yesterday was just a fraction of what's possible now, and the more I realize the more it begins to scare me.

Something itches in the back of my thoughts, some sort of warning, but I shrug it off, not wanting to deal with anything now. For now all I want to do is figure out what's happening to me, why my thoughts feel like they aren't even my own anymore, like a calming haze has covered my mind. There's serenity and peace, but beyond that I can sense every little stressor, worry, and bit of hate. I'm aware of all those things in me, and as soon as I'm aware of them it's as if I can purge them, just erase them from existence. Then there's Sigma. . . it's still hazy, like there's some sort of shroud over her, but even then I can sense there's something under there. That same feeling of hatred that I feel in small amounts inside of myself seems to be streaming from Sigma, swelling up, screaming out, a burning fire of rage.

The blade of grass falls to the ground. The itch in the back of my mind grows to a throbbing headache, a wailing warning that sends me scampering to my feet, wide eyes as I look towards the source of the feeling.

Sigma is still, eyes still locked on the horizon, the only difference being in her eyes. The once small sliver of orange is a cloud now, swirling and dancing around her iris. That shroud is still over her, but I don't need any sort of sixth sense to see that something is wrong with her. Her breathing, before being calm and automatic, is now a desperate, ragged sound, air pushing against her teeth as she grimaces. Her hands begin to shake, just a small jitter at first, quickly growing to a rigged shaking.

I feel helpless, stuck frozen in place, not only by shock and confusion but also by something else. In that same way that I'm able to seemingly purge those negative emotions from my self, the effect seems to be working in opposite now. My entire being is filling up with some horrible sort of feeling, a darkness reaching its way into my very soul, a horrible, grating, cold whisper.

My feet lift off the ground. Just as easily as I could will a tiny blade of grass into the air, I'm now founding myself yanked into thin air, hovering just inches into the air. Everything in me wills against this, fighting back, my bones shaking and causing shockwaves across my body, but nothing can seem to even begin to make a dent in the attack.

For the first time all morning Sigma stands up, those orange wisps now having completely washed over her eyes, a corrupting, washed over bloody orange that burns with a seething hatred. That shroud seems to be weakening, cracking and shattering as she walks towards me with a sly smile, the very ground seeming to shake and burn every time her foot hits the ground.

Then, for the first time since I've met my meek and timid district partner, she speaks.

"This is only the beginning." Her voice is unwavering, a dark, grating sort of cold that reminds me of the whispers of darkness that radiate off of her.

With that, the darkness seems to pull away, leaving me to fall harmlessly to the ground, that shroud shattering into nothing, slinking away into a vacuum. The orange in Sigma's eyes dissipate into nothing, her normal chocolate brown irises returning for just a moment before her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she falls backwards onto the dirt.

Despite everything I'm running over to her the instant she falls, kneeling down to her side, a panic running over me that is quickly replaced by relief as her eyes flutter open, still brown. Her teeth are chattering, eyes wide with a sense of absolute terror that shakes me to my core.

"Help me," she whispers.

Her eyelids flutter closed, her hand outstretched towards mine flopping to the ground. She's still now, all except for the steady beat of her heart, quietly pounding against her chest.

* * *

 **A/N: I got nothing to say. Yeet.**

 **Cy'all next time on Day 3! (also check my profile for updated alliance info, my blog for an updated map, and consider sending in sponsor gifts for your starving and (dehydrating?) tributes. Or don't. _Or do._**

 **Trivia(1 point): So most of the prototypes are obvious references to something, IE lightsabers, but some are a bit more ambiguous. Any guesses about what D5 has?**

 **Trivia(1 point): All the (pov) NA tributes have a karaoke battle. Who wins?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite POV**


	30. Death and Heart Breaks

"Death and Heart Break"

 **A/N: Short-ish chapter this time, but hey! I'm back from the dead again! What can I say, you can't kill what is already dead.**

 _~I ain't gonna die tonight_  
 _You can't kill me, not my spirit_  
 _History is ours tonight_  
 _The people are chanting, can't you hear it?~_

 **Cyril Lovelace, 11, District Three**

I didn't think anything could ever hurt. Every step brings another awful pain in my hip, while all the cuts along my face, arms, legs, and just about everywhere else constantly sting. Some of my cuts are definitely infected by now with nothing, not even water to wash it with, and my hip is probably in even worse shape. None of that is helped by me walking around this forest, but I have to keep on moving. I haven't drank any water since the first day, and it won't be long now until I can't move anymore.

That thought is enough to speed me up, limping along the forest floor at my highest speed, even as tears well up in my eyes as sharp flames of pain stab my side. I have to think. I was moving along a stream at first, so if I can find that I'll have water to drink, I just have to get back there. Maybe if I was smarter I could figure out how. I'm sure if Ace was in my shoes she'd already have used her smarts to find her way back to water. Or no, she would have been smart enough to not leave the stream in the first place. Anyone would have been smart enough to do that, just not me.

Or maybe I wouldn't even have to be smart if I could be funny, or cool, or interesting enough to get people to care enough to sponsor me. Then I would be able to just kick back and drink from a fresh water bottle while medicine fixes up all my injuries. But no, I'm not that either, am I?

I'm just Cyril Lovelace, not funny or smart or cool or liked or loved. Cyril Lovelace, the boy that'll die wandering a forest and have nobody care and even fewer people remember.

My throat tightens, my knees beginning to buckle as I struggle with all my might to stay on my feet. I don't care if nobody else cares about me, I don't want to die, not here, not ever. It takes all my might to continue to stumble forward as I begin to feel the full weight of my body pushing down on my feet, the strength draining from me with every step.

Then, I see it. Just in the distance, cutting through the fog, is the first thing I've seen that isn't just grass and trees for three days. The image is hazy at first, the mist still covering it, but with every inch forward it gets clearer. First I just make out the shape, a big blog of grey something, towering into the sky, just below the canopy tops. Then I make out the columns tha rise on the corners, above the front wall, and beyond the wall a large building

It's a castle.

Before I can muster up any sort of response to that revelation, I'm reminded of something else. Castle's have moats, and my foot just stepped into water. I look down at the water, a dark and sinister murkiness too it that has me yanking my foot back in fear, the hairs on the back of my neck tingling as I get the feeling staying in that water wouldn't be very safe. Not that I could swim through the water anyways, even without my hip and being so tired, the water stretches on for so long I can't imagine anybody being able to swim all the way to the castle. So how are we supposed to get in?

I look around the edge of the castle, straining my eyes for any sort of way to get in, and manage to find it almost immediately, a bridge just barely in sight. I immediately begin to stumble towards it, a new source of energy I didn't know I had keeping me barrelling towards it as fast as I can.

If it really is a castle, there has to be water inside. And food too. A warm bed, blankets, a room with a locked door, a bathroom, and everything else I've been without. All of it almost seems too good to be true, and I don't want to wait to find out if that's true. I pick up my pace even more once I reach the bridge, the long walk ahead not bothering me, with so little in between me and everything that I need.

Then, reality comes crashing down. As soon as I reach midway through, I hear a loud, mechanical noise that stops me for a second. When I look behind me, the bridge is rising into the air. The slope is small at first, and only slowly moving up, but I don't waste any more time watching it. I'm running now, ignoring the screaming pain of my hip and running off of pure fear as I'm running at a steeper and steeper decline with every second, until it gets so high that I'm not even running anymore, I'm sliding.

I'm frozen with too much fear to even scream, flashbacks of my last fall from heights just two days ago racing through my mind as the bridge begins to straighten more and more. The wind is racing against me, and before the bridge can even go completely upright it bumps against me, sending me flying forward from thin air, a dozen feet from the ground.

My body hits the concrete floor like a ragdoll, shoulder absorbing most of it as I hear a cracking noise, my hip screaming out in more pain than it's ever been in, my body bounces into the air, rolling to the side as I rest to a step against a wall. Everything in my body is screaming out, freezing my body rigid in a pain that completely stops my mind, only able to focus on the pain, and wishing for it to stop.

Boom!

My eyelids fall over my eyes, my head slumping over to the side with only one thought rushing through my mind before it fades away.

I hope that was me.

 **Sigma Krell, 9, District Five**

The drumming in my head hasn't stopped. Four beats, stuck on an endless repeat that never stops. It was with me all throughout the night. I had no dreams, just the drums, over and over. Dun dun dun dun. When I woke up it was still there. It kept repeating while we ate breakfast that a sponsor sent us, while we started walking through the forest to try to find something, while Levi cracked joke after joke to try to cheer me up.

And there's something else there too. That cold, dark, metallic whisper. Sending thoughts into my head, telling me over and over again, to the sound of the rhythm. Use the power. Louder every time. Use the power. Screaming into my head. Use the power!

"Sigma?" Levi's voice snaps me to reality, my eyes darting over to him as shivers run through my body. "You got a bit spacy there again," he says, not even bothering to ask if I'm alright this time. We both know there's something wrong with me. I'm dangerous, and the longer we stay together the more chance there is I just end up hurting him.

So kill him then.

My feet stop moving. The hairs on my arms stand up as goosebumps run across my skin. The drums in my head are still playing, but the constant whispering has stopped. It's all I can do in response to shake my head, shutting my eyes and willing the voice away.

You are the strong. You kill the weak.

I shake my head.

"Sigma?"

It is your right.

"No," I whisper.

Your destiny.

"Sigma!"

"Stop it," I whimper.

Kill him-

"-Sigma!"

"STOP IT!"

I feel something on my shoulder, and with everything in me I lash out against it. A scream rises from me, piercing and pained and just wanting this all to end. The drums, the whispers, the creeping darkness, the drums, the drums, the drums, the drums!

Another scream comes, this time I'm not even sure if it's mine, followed by an explosion of energy, wind rushing all around as I'm tossed off my feet, landing face first into the ground.

The drumming stops. The darkness is gone. The whispers go quiet. But so has Levi.

My eyes shoot open. I crawl to my feet, ignoring the devastation around me, trees snapped in half like toothpicks while the ground has been torn up and opened. I see right through it all, and to the one thing that matters. Levi, slumped against a tree in the distance, his eyes shut, his chest flat.

I run over there as fast as I can, tears in my eyes as I kneel down next to him. No, he can't be gone. He's alright. He has to be. He has to wake up and crack some dumb joke and hug me and tell me it'll all be okay. It'll all be okay. It'll all be okay.

It'll all be okay.

"Levi?" I croake out, a last desperate plea.

But nothing happens. His eyes are still shut. His chest is still flat.

"No," I whimper. This can't be it, no. It can't be.

"No," I whisper, grabbing onto Levi's hand. In the distance, whispers begin to murmur.

"No," I repeat again, feeling that darkness creeping back into me again. But this time I don't try to push it away. This time I let it all in, flow through me, feel it at my fingertips.

"No!" I scream, so loud that it deafens me, knocking me back off my feet as tears stream down my cheeks, all the noise of the world cut off into nothing, with only one sound breaking through.

Dun dun dun dun.

And then, one more noise. A breath.

I glance over to him, not even believing my own eyes as he slowly sits up, coughing painfully before looking to me with a reassuring smile.

"It's okay," he says. "I know you didn't mean to."

 **Picaboo "Peeka" Benner, 19, District Eleven**

Monster is the only thought that I can keep in my head. Ephraim's small chat to me just go right through me, but as little as it does to help, it does make me a feel just a bit warmer knowing that somebody cares enough to stay with me. I doubt he'd be staying if he knew what I did though.

I'm a murderer. That boy was alive, and now because of me he's dead. I didn't even have to kill him, I could have just walked away, he couldn't hurt me anymore, I don't think anyone can now. So how many more am I going to kill?

"You want some berries?" Ephraim stares at me from a few feet away, a handful of bluish berries clutched in his hands. "I'm like ninety-five percent sure they aren't poisonous."

"Doesn't really matter," I say darkly."They can't kill me anyways."

"Right," Ephraim says.

"I'm sorry," I sigh, reaching out and letting Ephraim dump some berries in my hands. Years of instinct and learning are screaming at me that I'm doing everything wrong, that I need to be more calm, composed, ladylike, but all that energy is just gone. I don't have it in me to put up that shell, that thin facade I never even realized I was wearing. I can feel so much more bubbling up in me, anger, resentment, but above all of that fear. But not like the fear I've felt before, of what others will think of me, or how someone's going to react to my perfect image breaking for even a moment. I'm not scared of my parents, or the cameras watching me, or even Deke. I'm scared of myself.

Ephraim is talking to me, giving me some blank words of encouragement, lying to me and saying how good and kind I am, but even if I believed what he was saying, I wouldn't be focusing on it anyways. There's something else I'm picking up, something odd, like a sixth sense, or no, not a sixth sense, all five of my senses working in a way they shouldn't.

We're not alone.

I jump to my feet with speed that surprises myself, the high pitched sound charging up in frequency while a burning smell begins to filter through the area. I leap towards Ephraim, shocking him as he tries and luckily fails to dodge out of the way. The red laser comes a moment later, a foot long beam of energy that decimates everything in its path, including the back half of my waist, the entirety of which is incinerated down to the bone.

The pain is unfathomable, so gut-wrenchingly horrible that there's no possible scale to even imagine it on, a pain so awful I can't help but fall to the ground on top of Ephraim, writhing and twitching in pain that leaves me unable to speak.

I'm met face to face with Ephraim, who somehow manages to look even more horrified than me as he quickly rolls me off of him, to his defense doing so as lightly as he can. All that I can manage to do is keep my eyes forced open, unable to do anything but watch as Ephraim turns around and is immediately smacked in the head with the butt of an absolutely massive gun the size of an entire person, held by the boy from Eight, Lex.

Ephraim drops to the floor, and I find a moment of strength in me, lurching forward and stumbling to my feet, only to be met with another shockwave of pain as I see blood and organs drop out of the gaping hole in my side and onto the ground, the place I find myself again faceplanting onto a moment later.

Lex seems equally shocked and disgusted by what's going on, gaping over at me while he points the charging laser at Ephraim, who's on the ground right in front of him. The distraction is enough though, and just as the laser is about to fire Ephraim kicks the gun, sending the shot way off into the distance.

I let out a breath of relief, before the short burst of adrenaline runs out and I find my eyes closing shut, mouth plopping onto the dirt ground as I feel my body go numb.

For a moment, everything is still. The lights are off. The pain is gone. My thoughts are just passing whispers echoing off into an endless void.

Then the light is back on. The pain is numbed now, I reach down and can feel my side again, but still a phantom pain keeps on persisting, the memories of that awful, awful pain still fresh in my mind.

There's no time to worry about that though. I jump up to my feet, the claws extending out of my wrist without thought, the pain not even a passing thought compared to what I've just felt. All my rational, logical thoughts are gone, my timid and reserved self replaced by something completely feral.

Directly in front of me Lex has knocked Ephraim back down to the ground, and again he's aiming that laser down at him, charging it up.

I'm half-aware of the scream that rises up from me, instantly gaining the attention of both boys as fear shines brightly from both of them. Lex fumbles with the gun, pointing it at me, the red beam charging up, further and further, and further.

He's screaming now too, locked in place as I leap out towards him, the beam's explosion blinding and deafening as I feel the metal sink into flesh.

It takes a moment to regain a sense of where I am, blinking back red light that's caught in my vision, sound slowly returning to me. The first thing I notice is my claws, sunk into forehead, blood dripping down in a steady stream, covering his eyes as they stare unblinkingly through me. Accusing me.

It takes another moment to realize that there's a hole in my chest where my heart should be. I go to try to say something, not even sure what it is. Maybe another apology, a sincere sign of regret, a realization of the monster that I've become. Most likely it was probably just, "Oh."

The dark sky, not even a sliver of light in sight, is the last thing I see as I fall to the ground, and my whole world and everything I am fades away.

 **Hailey Hills, 13, District One**

"How do you end up with a name like Prestige anyways? Who comes up with this shit?" I laugh.

"Stupid parents who need their kid to be unique and special?" Prestige responds cheekily. "Could always be worse, they could've named me Bubble, or Glitter, or Sparkly, or who knows what else."

"Ooh! Don't forget every other girl being named Ruby, I had like seven of them in one of my classes."

"Ugh, those are the worst," Prestige says, trailing off laughing for a moment before looking over at me across the small campfire we set up. "You know, I've always been curious, how'd you ever end up with a name like Hailey?"

"What, you don't like it?" I tease.

"I never said that, it's just. . . different."

"Says the girl named Prestige?"

"You know what I mean," she says, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, I mean," I sigh, looking down at the fire for a moment and thinking of how I could dodge this conversation, but not really seeing a way. "My dad is the reason," I finally exhale. "He hated all the corny names in our district and decided he was going to name me something not completely awful."

"He sounds pretty great," Prestige says after a moment, a genuineness in her voice I don't think I've heard before.

"Yeah," I sigh, kicking a log into the center of the flames. "Well he was."

"Oh," she says, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. "What happened?"

I don't respond to that for a while, looking into the burning flames of the campfire until the brightness and the smoke bring tears to my eyes and I'm forced to look away. Prestige is still staring at me, an unreadable look on her face, some mixture of pity, confusion, nervousness, that little bit of fear that still hasn't gone away and only gets worse at night, and finally something else completely different, and completely new.

Unable to look anymore, I peel my eyes away from her and pull out the pocketknife that was gifted to us this morning, flicking it open and twirling it along my fingertips.

"Well, my dad used to always tell me that everyone you love is going to betray you at some point, and when they do it'll hurt more than anything else in this world."

"And?" Prestige asks softly.

I close the blade of the knife, clenching my fist around it and looking back up to meet her expression eye to eye. "And he was right."

"That's a pretty pessimistic quote," Prestige murmurs, breaking eye contact and rubbing her hands as she holds them over the fire.

"Well there was more to it," I say with a sigh, shaking my head. "But that's not really important."

Before either of us get the chance to say anything more, the sound of the Panem national anthem blares over the arena, and I swear I can see Prestige catching herself from breaking into a salute.

I decide to keep that little bit to myself, and instead look up at the sky to watch the faces. There's been people dropping like flies, and with us just sitting on our asses and talking for the past couple days there's no doubt if we don't find something to do soon, the Gamemakers will find something for us.

The first face begins to show on the screen, but then something odd happens, the screen glitching out and turning to pixels that leave the words and face completely invisible. Prestige and I barely have time to share a confused look before it's fixed, the face of Lex Renault, the boy from Eight, glaring down on us from above. Neither of us really say anything at that.

The feed seems to hang on his face for an abnormally long amount of time, before cutting to the second fallen tribute of the day. Staring down from above, with that innocent, carefree smile comes the one person I was praying I wouldn't have to see.

Levi Ezra.

I knew it was going to happen, and allying with him and his district partner was a stupid move that I made because I was upset and, admittedly pretty lonely, but still, even knowing he was going to die I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt.

"You alright?" Prestige asks as his face drops from the sky, the music giving way to a emptiness only filled by the occasional crack and hum of the fire.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, smiling over at her. "He was just a nice guy, that's all."

"Nice guys don't win the Hunger Games," she says.

"No," I sigh, shaking my head. "But still, I can't help but feel bad for Sigma.

"I don't think she'll be able to survive without him."

* * *

 **A/N: Anybody got some popcorn? I want to get this chapter out ASAP so map and alliance supplies and all that jazz will come in a bit later whenever I can find the time and energy. For now though, I think there's enough questions for you guys to wonder about lol.**

 **16th: Levi?: RIP?, we barely knew yee?**

 **15th: Lex: RIP, we barely knew yee**

 **Trivia(1 point): Out of the three "fakeout" deaths (Cyril, Levi, and Peeka) Which ones fooled and/or worried you?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Any ideas about wtf is going on? With Sigma? With Levi? With Peeka? With Hailey not being a stammering idiot around Prestige for once? Find out next time on dragonballZ! Or more likely on Chapter 31 of No Apologies! Hopefully no 4 month wait on this one, but no promises (or apologies?).**


	31. Day and Night

"Day and Night"

* * *

 **A/N: Just so y'all know the reason I'm not giving you guys what day/time it is for sure is because they don't really know either. So sorry, but until we get some Capitol POVs you won't know for sure lol. Anyways, enjoy!**

* * *

 _~I look for peace but see I don't attain_

 _What I need for keeps this silly game we play, play_

 _Now look at this_

 _Madness to magnet keeps attracting me, me_

 _I try to run but see I'm not that fast_

 _I think I'm first but surely finish last, last~_

* * *

 **Sigma Krell, 9, District Five**

Today is Levi's birthday. It's a happy day. It's a good day. There's no reason to be sad. There's nothing to worry about. Everything is okay. I just have to keep reminding myself that.

No matter how much I tell myself that though, nothing stops the anger from running through me. I don't even know why I'm angry, or even how to control it anymore, it's just there. Running through me, my blood pumping into my heart, a constant loud pounding that wants to break through the inside of my chest. I keep on having to unpeel my hands, as they constantly form themselves into fists so tight that my nails draw blood, making deep gashes that sting with pain. Pain that just feeds into that anger, tightens that grip.

I close my eyes. I inhale. I exhale.

I open my eyes again. That anger, no, that hate is still there, it never really leaves, but it's quieter now. Those dark, cold whispers are just that, whispers. Not screams, not yelling or shouting or a rhythmic pounding, going along with the beat of the drums.

The drums. I forgot about them. But they're still there too, never-ending, not a single moment of break. No quiet, no peace, no calm, no happy place to close my eyes and disappear to. Just dark and cold and pain, all poking and prodding at me, begging to lash out and just get rid of it all. Get rid of it all. Get rid of it.

I slap myself on the cheek, the pain taking me out of it for just a moment, choked breaths gasping for air.

"You're okay," I whisper to myself through a raspy voice, slightly rocking myself back and forth from my seated position on the ground. "It's a happy day. It's a good day. Today is a good day. Everything is okay."

"You are okay," Levi says, appearing from seemingly nowhere, suddenly standing above me with a warm, easy smile that seems almost unnatural. Sinister, almost.

"What's wrong with me?" I gasp out.

Levi kneels down in front of me, placing a hand on my shoulder, stopping me from rocking and freezing me in place. "Absolutely nothing," he says.

"I just want it to stop," I say, a stammer in my voice as I tightly hug my knees against my chest. "I just want it all to stop. You promised you'd help me."

"I am," he says. "But I can't help you, unless you let me help you." He smiles at that, a flicker of orange running across his piercing blue eyes.

"Please, make the whispers stop," I beg, tears spilling from my eyes.

He stares me in the eyes, head tilting ever so slightly, an analytical, cold look as he stares right through me before finally shaking his head and starting to walk away.

"Stop!" I frantically yell out, stumbling to my feet and starting to chase after him. "Please-"

I fall back down to my knees, a force dragging me down and stopping me from climbing back to my feet. Levi turns his head to me, his eyes a fully burnt orange now, his expression completely blank as he gazes at me.

"You're asking me for help," he laughs. "You've been given a gift. Unstoppable power. You were a dead kid walking the second you stepped in here. We chose you. We gave you the power you need to survive. We are your only chance of avoiding falling into the endless void. But instead of being grateful, instead of using that power for what it was intended for, you squander it. You hide from it. You fear it."

Tears sting my cheeks as I stare up at Levi, confusion and hurt swelling through me. "Levi?" Is all that I can muster up, an exposed, timid, broken up voice that barely squeaks past my lips.

I slam my eyes shut, shaking my head and forcing my thoughts to clear. This is a dream. This is just an awful, awful nightmare. I'm going to wake up, and Levi will still be okay, and these voices, the whispers, the drums, they'll all be gone. No, I'll wake up and Theta will be okay, I'll tell him all about my awful, long nightmare that just never ended, and he'll hug me and promise that it'll never happen again.

"You always did hide away in your fantasy worlds."

That voice isn't Levi's. I know right away whose voice that is, and it only makes me tighten my eyes even more, refusing to look, knowing it's not real, that this can't be real. He would never say that. This isn't real. None of this is real.

"Oh it's so real though," he says with a laugh. "Refusing to see the real world as it is, that's what you always were good at, wasn't it? Never opening your eyes, or your mouth, for long enough to see things for what they were. Maybe if you could you would have noticed what was wrong with me. You could have saved me. It's all your fau-"

"STOP IT!" I scream, that feral, wild energy swelling through me again, but this time I don't even fight against it. I feel it soak every inch of my body, swelling and rising and bubbling and building up until it's ready to pop. Every bit of anger and sadness and fear and every other awful thing that I feel all draining away from me.

Crack.

And just like that it's all gone. No explosion, no wave of energy, just a raw burst of power, rushing through to my fingertips, gone just as soon as it started. Tightening and strengthening until there was nothing left. The whispers, which I hadn't even noticed rising to an echoing scream, are back to silent murmurs, the beating drums fading away to the background.

My eyes remain closed for another minute, desperate, ragged breaths slowly coming in and out of my lungs. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Everything is okay.

Except it isn't. Because I know what I'm going to see when I open my eyes. I already know, and I don't want to see it. It doesn't matter if it isn't actually real. It feels real enough.

"Why are you scared to look?" That's Levi's voice, gentle and calm and understanding. Peaceful.

"I can't," I choke out. "I can't."

I hear footsteps crunching against grass, Levi walking around to my side, kneeling down to my level. "You can," he says. "And it'll make you so much stronger." He places a hand on my shoulder. "Look."

My eyes crack open, just a tiny slit at first, only enough for the trapped tears to spill out. Then, with a deep breath, I look.

Theta looks back. Cold, dead eyes, staring up at me without accusation or disgust, just nothingness. His neck is snapped, head tilted awkwardly to the side as he lies still on the ground.

I feel that force holding me in place, gone now, but still can't climb to my feet, stuck in place on my knees, eyes stuck staring into Theta's, into that cold and empty void. No memories of us, no laughter, no joy, no anything.

Levi stands up behind me, the crinkle of feet on dead grass as he walks beside me. "Nothing can stop you now," he whispers, that warm voice mixed with just a tinge of something cold and metallic. "Nobody can rob you of what belongs to you."

Jelly legs slowly climb up, eyes still stuck in a trance, unable to escape staring into that empty pit. With one last shudder running through my bones, I swallow the lump in my throat. "What now?" I ask him with a shaky voice that I try to fill up with fake confidence.

I can feel his eyes on me without even looking, burning into me. "Win."

 **Cyril Lovelace, 11, District Three**

Everything hurts. I woke up an hour ago wishing that I hadn't, blood pooling up around me, gushing out of my head, so much blood I wonder with what little brain power I can still muster up how I'm still alive. Everything is a hazy cloud, even just looking around, or thinking too hard causing a dull, throbbing pain in my skull.

From my laying down position I've been locked in, I can only see the concrete wall ahead of me, bland and blank, and my hand, feebly crawling upwards for a moment before collapsing onto the red stained floor.

This is it. This'll be the last thing I see, won't it? I swallow a lump in my throat, straining to choke down a single breath of air. I close my eyes, fighting through the throbbing headache I get to try to conjure up an image of someone, anyone. Anything is a better last thing to see than this. I can just pretend that they're here with me, holding my hand, squeezing it and whispering to me that it's okay, there's no need to be scared anymore. They're here for me, and no matter what they'll never let go.

But no image comes. Just a foggy outline, even now fading away, seeping into nothingness. Peri, Endian, Miss Hash, Firefly, mom, dad, even Alt- all of them are gone. No faces, no voices, no smiles or jokes or laughs. There's nothing. Even their words are slipping away. What was it that Firefly said to me before. . . before what? The goodbyes. That's right, it was the goodbyes, and she said something to me, something important. I thought I'd never forget it, that I'd cling to it and never let it go for the rest of my life.

The most important thing I've ever heard in my life, and it's gone. I'm not even strong enough to lash out, or sob, or complain about how unfair this all is, or say something to them, something to let them know that even if I can't remember what they said, that I remember how it made me feel. I have so much more I want to say, things I was too scared to. But when I try to open my mouth to speak them, nothing comes out. I can't even get tears to fall, my eyes so dry and empty that there's nothing left to come out. This is how it all ends for me. No last words. No courage. No memories. Nothing.

The sound of footsteps echoes from behind me, but no reaction comes from it. No fear, or gratefulness, or sadness, or joy.

"The fuck?" The first voice says, high pitched and mean sounding.

There's a pause, more footsteps walking towards me before they also stop. "Look at his head," the other voice says, calm and detached. A foot lightly taps against my side, and I cough up a pained gasp, but can't find it in me to muster anything more up. "Some broken ribs too, hip is messed up, dislocated maybe. He's on his way out, just give it a minute."

"Let's speed it up then." The sound of cackling electricity fills up the room. "I've been meaning to try this stuff out."

"He's a kid, just leave him," the other says.

There's a long pause of silence after that, and then a high pitched scream from far away. After that there's muffled footsteps, maybe, I can't really tell anymore. Everything is slowing down, not just my thoughts or my memories this time, but everything.

A calm washes over me, and I suck in one last breath before giving up, and letting myself fade away to nothing.

 **Prestige Freeman, 15, District One**

I left in the middle of the night.

There's no time now for guilt, no room for second guessing. I did what I had to, that's all. I walked for hours, and even though there's no sun to spot to be sure, it feels like it's night again now. The end of day four, with only fourteen people left alive. Having an ally is one thing, an ally is just someone you force yourself to work together with, because it increases your chance of surviving. That would be fine. But there's no room for friends in the arena.

There's hardly room for friends in normal life, and I should know that better than anybody. Every single "friend" I've had has been fake, just looking to gain something, never actually caring. Nobody has room to care about other people, especially when you throw them in a deathmatch.

Any amount of caring is just a tradeoff, trying to get something in exchange for your kindness. Melody and Glory want another victor, Lars Atrius just wanted a good soccer player to make his team better, all the Capitol "fans" who are rooting for me just want me to survive so they can watch me play soccer, and Hailey. . . well, that's where things get confusing.

Confusing. That'd be a pretty good word to describe that girl. Even now, I'm still not sure whether or not I hate her, or what her angle is. I've seen her fight, and I've seen how she acts around literally anybody else but me. She isn't exactly the type of person to have allies, and she definitely isn't the type to have friends. So what does that make me?

I brush off that thought. Like I said, confusing. And confusing is something I have no time for right now. Even if I'm not even fully sure why I did, I left, ran off in the middle of the night with nothing but one of those light swords, and now I somehow managed to find a castle, and in my awful judgement decided to cross the drawbridge.

The place seems deserted, but I'm not trying to test that theory, moving silently from room to room, guzzling down a bucket of water and loaf of bread from the kitchen, and taking a minute to rest on the first bed I've seen in nearly a week.

But this room is by far the most interesting. It had a giant metal lock guarding the front that I had to cut through with the sword, managing to avoid decapitating myself in the process thanks to the tips that Hailey gave me. And behind the thick wooden door? A giant, lavish room with velvet carpet, completely empty except for a glass case on display in the center of the room. A glass case with just a single pill inside of it, a pill that swirls between shining blue and sinister red, pulsating off light and an uncomfortable feeling.

Right, confusing. Word of the day apparently.

Anything given all this protection and set up in this lavish display has to be something that would be useful, right? It would be pretty anticlimactic for it to be a trap. Plus, I doubt anyone wants to see me die alone from a poison pill in an empty castle. That's just not good for ratings.

I reach into the case, gently picking the pill up with my hands to look at it closer. As soon as it makes contact with my skin, I feel a surge of something, a luring pull towards the pill. A quick, sudden urge that has me swallowing the pill without any further thought.

"That wouldn't happen to be an aspirin, would it?" I nervously laugh, that urging feeling gone and replaced by a subtle, slowly building up feeling coming from everywhere in my body. Just a quiet, soft whisper.

And then, everything burns. All across my body, every inch, every cell, everything begins to flare up and scream out in pain.

All thoughts of quietness shatter through the window, a terrified scream erupting from me as I drop down to my knees, hands covering my ears as a screeching sound echoes through my head, wiggling and fighting it's way into my thoughts.

I drop down to the floor, writhing on the ground, my screams cutting off as I run out of breath, unable to bring in any more air. I bump into the small table holding the pill, the glass casing dropping off towards me, flying towards my face.

The pain cuts off. The screeching stops. I breathe.

Above me, just inches from my forehead, the glass cube hangs in mid air, frozen.

I scramble away from it, climbing to my feet and waving my hand above it in disbelief. No wires, no strings, nothing holding it in the air.

I let out my breath. My focus breaks away for just a moment, my gaze setting on the door for just an instant before the glass falls, shattering against the ground. That's not all I hear though, there's something else, noise. Footsteps. Footsteps running towards this room.

My eyes shoot open, and I barrel through the door, shoving aside all of my confusion and focusing on getting the hell out of here. As soon as I break out into the hallway I see two figures turn the corner, my eyes setting on the two girls from Four sprinting towards me, Merrium holding a spear.

I don't waste any more time noticing details, turning and dashing off in the opposite direction. If I can just keep on running, and avoid dead ends, I can get away. They're slower than me, especially now that they're lugging around weapons. Weapons they want to use to kill me, if they manage to catch up. Knowing Merrium, kill me slowly, probably.

If I needed more reason to run, that would have sped me up, but I'm already going full speed, rounding a corner just as lightning arcs across the room, zapping the wall where I just was, scorching the painting to ashes.

Right, confusion. Word of the day. No time to ask questions.

I manage to gain more distance, skidding to a stop and turning down another hallway just as they round the other corner. My heart drops. In front of me is no doors, no hallways, no safe passage.

The footsteps are louder now, shoes on concrete echoing out as my heart pounds faster and faster, looking for some way out of this. I run to the window at the end of the dead end hallway, the painted glass making it impossible to see what lies below. I know I'm on the third floor, but what I don't know is what's beneath me. The grass gardens? The concrete sidewalks? The wooden drawbridge? Or maybe, just maybe, the moat.

They're close now. Very close. Seconds away. No time to hesitate.

Desperately, closing my eyes and just hoping, I stick out my hand, sucking in a breath as I focus on the window ahead of me. Reach out to it with my thoughts, picturing a force on it, pushing with all its might.

The window shatters. I turn away from the exploding shards of glass, looking just in time to see the two girls turn the corner. McKenna looks at me blankly, holding up her hand, while Merrium smirks, spear still clutched in her arms.

I still haven't had time to look what's down there. It could be anything.

Merrium rears back her arm, the sharp metal tip of the spear pointed directly at me. Right. No hesitation.

I don't waste time turning around, jumping backwards and falling into thin air. I drop out of sight of them, the spear cutting through the air just inches above me. I can see the sky, and nothing else. The actual sky, not dim and foggy tree-tops. Just one tiny little gap, a dark black sky filled with more stars than I could ever count.

It's all I have time to do to reach out my hand towards it, before I stop falling.

I drop into the water back first, plummeting down until I'm surrounded by nothing but dark, murky water. I stay there for a moment, a calm, relieved feeling washing over me. Then, panic, fast and rapid and screeching at me just like after I took the pill.

My eyes shoot wide open, waving my arms through the water to turn around, my lungs screaming in protest as they begin to run dry. I force myself to go still though, sensing something, my eyes straining to see through the dark water. To see the other thing that's in this water with me.

From the distance, two red dots appear, coming closer and closer, coming towards me, that screeching sound turning into an all-encompassing terror, everything in me tensing up, still locked in place, unable to look away. Frozen as it inches closer to me.

Bubbles of air float silently upwards, the water muffling my scream.

 **Blaze Colton, 21, District Twelve**

Boom!

Thirteen tributes left. One more death and I'm halfway home. I let out a deep breath at that thought, pausing from my hike through the forest for a moment to rest. I toss my bag down on the ground, the ridiculous amount of weight from the flamethrower being lifted from my shoulders. I'm much more careful with the staff, knowing well enough what happens when that thing hits anything, and not wanting to end up like that girl, flung like a ragdoll.

I allow myself to breathe again once I successfully get it on the ground without any sort of impulse blast, dropping with a thud to the ground, leaning back into the tree stump. The feeling of finally getting of my feet goes beyond what words can describe, my daily hikes dragging on for what feels like entire days, though with the sky out of sight the only thing I can count is the days, the faces in the sky showing up every night. That is, assuming that the Gamemakers aren't screwing with us and showing them at different times. I wouldn't put anything past them.

As if the Capitol can read my thoughts, the anthem starts up, and I look up in the sky to see the face of Cyril Lovelace, District Three, staring back at me. I don't really feel anything about that, hardly even remembering seeing him during training. He certainly wasn't who I would hope to see dead, considering some of the other threats that are still around.

The two girls from One, the trio of Careers, and the boy from Six are all still alive and serious threats. And then there's Ephraim, probably hiding in a cave somewhere or something. He won't be around for much longer, especially if he stumbles across me.

After the boy from Three, there's no other faces to fill in the sky, leaving the arena dropped back into a misty darkness. Weird how I almost manage to forget the fact that you're supposed to be able to see past your own hands. I don't know how they expect us to find each other when we can barely see ourselves. I wouldn't be surprised if the deaths over the past two days are all just from dehydration, because I can't imagine any action happening in here.

My stomach rumbles, and I let out a sigh, digging into my backpack and pulling out my handful of berries that I managed to find. I ate one a couple hours ago and nothing bad has happened, so they're probably safe, but they're not exactly going to fill me up either. All this walking, the lack of food really is starting to get to me, as much as I try to ignore it.

For the second time in the past few minutes my thoughts are seemingly answered, a hole in the ground opening next to me, a package shooting up before the ground quickly closes back up. I don't waste much time peeling it open, thanking Tristan under my breath as I see exactly what I needed in it, a ration meal and a full bottle of water.

Before I can dig into the food though, I notice one more thing, a note. I reach over, skimming over the note and skipping to the end, expecting to see Tristan or Rose's signature, only to find myself stopping dead in my tracks at the name that it reads.

June.

The notes are written in the Capitol though, and while people can send sponsorship money from back in Twelve, they can't send messages. Which means. . . she made it. She won the contest, is in the Capitol right now, who knows maybe they'll even let her go to school there, let her escape District Twelve. She could be the first person in our rotten history to ever make it out. June Colton, the girl who made it out.

For the first time in over a week I feel a smile cross my lips, and I cling onto the note, reading it over and over again, pausing and reading over every single word. I keep on reading it over until I feel my eyelids get heavy, my stomach lurching out in pain.

Finally, I fold up the note, careful to avoid tearing or crumpling it in any way, and slip it into my pocket.

"I'm proud of you, June," I murmur beneath my breath, hoping that a camera picked it up, and wishing that I could just say it to June, and June alone. I wish I could say so much more to her too.

I shake my head, smile dropping as I focus myself back in. No wishing. I will have more to say to her, and I'm doing it in person. Just twelve more cannons.

* * *

 **A/N: What's going on? Do I even know? Maybe.**

 **I've been meaning to say this forever, so here's me finally getting to this. First of all, if y'all love SYOTs or maybe just have a moderate like for them, or hey even if you dislike them you should still join the SYOT Alliance on the forums. We got lots of cool stuff like discussion about stories, headcanons, tributes, writing music preferences, and anything else imaginable. We also got advertising for SYOTs, and are currently holding the 2018 SYOT awards. Lots of cool stuff, so you should check it out. If it also interests you, I have a sorta active discord server for all my stories (this one, Careless Whisper, and all my planned sequels), where you can chat about whatever. If you're interested in joining either let me know and I'll shoot you a link. Finally, there's a new poll on my profile you should vote on!**

 **14th: Cyril Lovelace: I adored Cyril. He was the perfect antithesis to Alt, the flip side of the same coin that comes from a childhood of emotional neglect and social isolation. He was a pure, kind heart that deserved so much more than he got. His intros were one of my favorite things I've ever written, and honestly he was just an absolutely brilliant character who sadly just had no chance in an arena full of Careers and superpowers. DarkHorse, thank you for yet again bringing me another of your brilliant characters. I hope I get to keep on seeing more of them in the future. RIP**

 **Trivia(1 point): Favorite POV?**

 **Trivia(1 point): Unrelated to the chapter, but what's your go to writing/hype/eat icecream and cry/whatever else song, if you have one?**


	32. The Show Goes On

"The Show Goes On"

* * *

 **A/N: Really short chapter to fill y'all in on what's going on in the Capitol because I haven't updated in forever and wanted to get something out.**

* * *

 _Ain't no body leavin'  
_

 _No body goin' home_

 _Even if they turn the lights out the show is goin' on~_

* * *

 **Jaycen Choice, 30, CDA Director**

Five days. Nearly a week we've been searching and we've found absolutely nothing. Not a single hint, even an iffy rumor, just complete silence, the same type of radio silence that we've had with District Thirteen the past five days. Our technicians have been working round the clock, but they've got nothing. No way to contact the embassy in Thirteen, no way to trace the video, nothing. We've been searching possible locations round the clock, but even then there's no way to search the entire Capitol before the deadline. The deadline Delilah has made very clear she doesn't care about. There'll be no concessions, no peace, just executions and a war that we've already begun preparing for.

We haven't even received so much as a second video from the terror cell. For all we know Glory, Audra. . . Connie, they've all met the same fate as Garen did. I push that thought aside, not wanting to even consider it as a possibility. If I let any harm come to even one of them, than I've failed the one test that's been put in front of me.

I'd do anything to get even one small inch closer to finding them, to not be left completely in the dark. This whole thing, it just feels so horribly wrong. There's something more going on here, but I just can't put my finger on it, and that drives me crazy more than anything else. If I just put in a few more hours, skipped out on a couple more power naps, stayed in the office and kept on working, I could've found something by now. The clock is ticking down, and I could be wasting precious time.

"Director Choice?" I glance up from my desk as a woman pokes her head through the door. She's new, one of the extra set of hands we brought in when we escalated the threat level, her name starts with an s or something, I think.

"Yes?" I say, downing another cup of coffee in one large gulp.

"Aurora Aurelius, the uh, head of district affairs? She's outside, says she wants to speak about an urgent matter. Should I send her in?"

I perk up at the mention of the name, giving a relaxed smile. "Yes, she's an old friend, go ahead and send her right in."

She nods her head, stepping out for a moment, Aurora stepping in just a second later, dressed in formal business attire and lacking the smile she so often wore. Aside from that though, she's exactly as I remember her from our time in the academy together, that blindingly bright blonde hair of her's hanging down past her shoulders.

"Aurora," I say. "You haven't aged a day."

"You have," she says with a smirk, taking a seat across from me.

"Perks of the job." I sigh. "It's nice to see you again, it really is, it's been too long, but on the topic of my job-"

"I'm not here on personal business," she says, cutting me off.

"Oh?" Is all l can muster up in response.

She glances behind her at the door, then back to me. "District affairs were brought under the reach of CDA, and tasked to work with the districts to see if any of the terror cell members had ties there."

"Did you get a hit?" I ask.

"No." She shakes her head, biting her lip. "We got nothing. Not just very little, or just a few unreliable rumors and hearsay that lead nowhere. We got absolutely nothing."

"It's the same from up here, whoever these guys are they're covering their tracks very well."

"That's what I thought at first too," she says, looking back one last time before leaning in and dropping her voice lower. "But I got curious, a few rogue agents, covering their tracks like that? I figured there was a chance they weren't alone."

I shake my head. "We've already checked for that, we have a team in place checking through authorized personnel, everyone is clean, they have no help."

"And who's checking that team?"

I pause at that, leaning back into my chair and running a hand through my hair. "I see your point. And knowing you, I assume you telling me this means you already have something you wanted to bring to me?"

"Only person I can trust in here," she smiles, reaching into her coat pocket and handing me a small USB stick. "Nothing concrete that anyone is helping them, that's just speculation, but that," she says as I take the USB from her. "That right there is something interesting."

"What is it?" I ask wearily.

"Just an oddity, a strange little bit of network activity from within CDA headquarters, nothing worth giving a second glance, if you aren't looking close enough.'

I stare back at Aurora, nodding my head. "Thank you," I say. "I'll keep you updated.

"Don't bother," she replies, standing up and pushing in her seat. "Just find them."

* * *

 **A/N: So yeah, no Games stuff, and a really short chapter. Hopefully I can start writing this again though and get back into the Games soon.**


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